f\  Jleryrvt's  U/ild  priepds 


Years  ii?  tfye  U/oods 

By 

/T\asoi?   f\.   U/altop 

(The  Hermit  of  Gloucester) 


Bostoi? 

Da^a   Estes  9 

publishers 


Copyright,  f^oj 
BY  DANA  ESTES  &  COMPANY 

All  rights  reserved 


A  HERMIT'S  WILD  FRIENDS 
Published  October,  1903 


Colonial  }3rrss 

Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  C.  H.  Simonds  &  Co. 
Boston,  Mass.,  U.  S.  A. 


TO    THE 

LOVERS  OF  NATURE, 

EVERYWHERE, 
THIS    VOLUME    IS    FRATERNALLY    DEDICATED 


939721 


NOTE 

During  my  eighteen  years  of  hermit  life, 
I  claim  to  have  discovered  several  new  fea- 
tures in  natural  history,  namely: 

That  the  cow-bunting  watches  over  its 
young,  assists  the  foster  parents  in  providing 
food,  and  gradually  assumes  full  care  of  the 
young  bird,  and  takes  it  to  the  pasture  to 
associate  with  its  kind ;  that  the  white-footed 
mouse  is  dumb,  and  communicates  with  its 
species  by  drumming  with  its  toes ;  that  the 
wood-thrush  conducts  a  singing-school  for 
the  purpose  of  teaching  its  young  how  to 
sing;  that  the  chickadee  can  count;  that 
the  shad-bush  on  Cape  Ann  assumes  a  dwarf 
form,  and  grows  in  patches  like  the  low-bush 
blueberry,  fruiting  when  less  than  a  foot  in 
height;  that  the  red  squirrel  owns  a  farm  or 
fruit  garden,  and  locates  his  male  children 


NOTE 

on  territory  which  he  preempts  for  the  pur- 
pose. I  am  aware  that  my  claims  will  be 
vigorously  assailed,  but  I  have  verified  these 
discoveries  by  years  of  patient  observation, 
and  would  say  to  my  critics :  "  You  would 
better  investigate  carefully  before  denying 
the  probability  of  any  one  of  these  claims." 

Thanks  are  due  the  publishers  of  Forest 
and  Stream  and  Youth's  Companion  for  per- 
mission to  republish  articles  which  have  ap- 
peared in  these  respective  journals. 

M.  A.  WALTON. 

Gloucester,  April  5,  1903. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  NATURE  versus  MEDICINE         .         .       11 

II.  SATAN  THE  RACCOON       ...       30 

III.  WABBLES 52 

IV.  BISMARCK,  THE  RED  SQUIRREL       .       67 
V.  CHANGES  IN  HERMIT -LIFE      .         .       99 

VI.  THE  WHITE -FOOTED  MOUSE  .         .     118 

VII.  THREE  YEARS  LATER      .         .         .136 

VIII.     THE  CROW 140 

IX.  LIFE  IN  THE  WOODS        .        .        .     lot) 

X.  MR.  AND  MRS.  CHEWINK          .         .     172 

XL  SOME  OF  THE  WILD  THINGS  .         .     190 

XII.  THE  INSTINCT  OF  THE  Cow -BIRD.     208 

XIII.  BEE  HUNTING  .         ...         .223 

XIV.  TINY          .        ."       .        .        .        .236 
XV.  THE  CHESTNUT  -  SIDED  WARBLER  .     253 

XVI.  INSTINCT    .         .         .         .         .         .265 

XVII.  THE  CHICKADEES     ...         .         .282 

XVIII.  TRIPLEFOOT                                .        .295 


LIST   OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

THE  "HERMIT"  AND  His  HOME  .         Frontispiece 

TREE  SPARROW 25 

Fox  SPARROW 27 

BAY -WINGED  BUNTING 28 

BLACKBIRD      .......       29 

RACCOON'S  HEAD 30 

«  I  BEGUN  BY  TYING  ON  A  NUT  "  .        .        .37 
"  WlTH  A  SAVAGE  SNARL  HE  SPRANG  ON  TO 

THE  DUDE"      ......       47 

SONG  SPARROW 52 

"  WABBLES  MADE  IT  HIS  BUSINESS  TO  AWAKE 

ME  AT  DAYLIGHT  "  .         .         .         .         .54 

WABBLES 65 

PIGEON  HAWK         .        .        .        .        .        .69 

"  MANY  A  SPRINTING  MATCH  OF   THIS   KIND 

TAKES  PLACE  IN  MY  DOORYARD  "   .         .74 
"  THE     WINTER     STOREHOUSE     WAS     COM- 
PLETED "  85 

INDIGO  -  BIRD  .         .         .         .         .         .         .96 

OVEN  -  BIRD     .......       97 

BLACK  -  THROATED  GREEN  WARBLER    .         .       98 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

CEDAR  -  BIRD  .......  102 

THE  NEW  CABIN    : 103 

MARYLAND  YELLOWTHROAT  ....  104 

RED -WINGED  BLACKBIRDS     ....  104 

BROWN  THRUSH      ......  105 

SWAMP  SONG -SPARROW 106 

BALTIMORE  ORIOLE 107 

BELTED  KINGFISHER,  WATCHING  .  .  .  109 
KINGFISHER,  STRIKING  .  .  .  .  .110 
KINGFISHER,  LIFTING  His  CATCH  .  .111 

"  THE    DISTANCE    BETWEEN   THEM    GREW    LESS 

QUITE  RAPIDLY" 114 

"HERMIT,    YOU    ARE    OUT"        ....  117 

"  IT  CARRIES  ITS  VICTIM  BY  THE  MIDDLE"  125 

MOLE 131 

KINGBIRD 141 

RUFFED  GROUSE 145 

"THE   NEXT   SENTINEL    TAKES    UP   THE  CALL"  151 

"I  SHOT  TWO  DUCKS" 158 

COOT'S  HEAD 159 

CHICKADEE      .......  173 

"I    THREW    A    BIT    OF    COOKIE    TO    HER"               .  174 

ENGLISH  SPARROW  ......  186 

SPARROW 189 

" FOUND  HIS  OWLSHIP  ON  A  LOW  LIMB"       .  191 

OWL  CHASED 193 

YELLOW -BELLIED  WOODPECKER    .         .         .  196 

"  HE    COILED    AROUND    MY    ARM  "      .                          .  202 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

BLUE -WINGED  YELLOW  WARBLER        .         .  211 

BEE   HUNTING 226 

«  AGAIN  THE   PLUCKY  LITTLE   BUNTING    SET 

ITS  WING  AND  LOWERED  ITS  HEAD"      .  241 

"MADE    HIS    WAY     TO    THE     BOX,    HAND    OVER 

HAND"      .....         .         .  245 

CHESTNUT -SIDED  WARBLER  ....  254 

BLUE  JAYS      ...*....  265 

WOOD  THRUSH 275 

THE  HERMIT  THRUSH    .         .         .         .         .278 

TRIPLEFOOT'S  DEN 298 

"  SHE    STOPPED    TO     LOOK    AROUND,    AND    SAW 

ME  "  .                                                               .  303 


A  Hermit's  Wild  Friends 

OR 

Eighteen  Years  in  the  Woods 

I. 
NATURE    versus    MEDICINE 

EIGHTEEN  years  ago  I  was  in  sore  straits. 
Ill  health  had  reduced  my  flesh  until  I  resem- 
bled the  living  skeleton  of  a  dime  show.  I 
realized  that  a  few  months  more  of  city  life 
would  take  me  beyond  the  living  stage,  and 
that  the  world  would  have  no  further  use  for 
me  except  to  adorn  some  scientific  laboratory. 

A  diagnosis  of  my  case  would  read  as  fol- 
lows: 

Dyspepsia,  aggravated,  medicine  could 
give  but  slight  relief.  Catarrh,  malignant, 
11 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

persistent.  A  douche  was  necessary  every 
morning  to  relieve  the  severe  facial  pain.  A 
cough  that  had  worried  me  by  day  and  by 
night,  and  thrived  on  all  kinds  of  cough  medi- 
cine. Also,  my  lungs  were  sore  and  the  palms 
of  my  hands  were  hot  and  dry.  I  thought 
that  I  was  fading  away  with  consumption,  but 
the  doctors  said  my  lungs  were  sound.  I  was 
advised  to  go  into  the  woods  and  try  life  in 
a  pine  grove.  As  there  was  no  money  for  the 
doctors  in  this  advice,  I  looked  upon  it  as  kind 
and  disinterested,  but  my  mind  ran  in  another 
direction. 

When  I  was  young  and  full  of  notions,  the 
idea  entered  my  head  that  I  should  like  a 
change  from  fresh  to  salt  water.  It  resulted 
in  a  two  months'  trip  on  a  fishing  schooner. 
During  the  trip  I  had  been  free  from  seasick- 
ness, and  had  gained  flesh  rapidly.  The 
memory  of  that  sea  voyage  haunted  me,  now 
that  I  had  become  sick  and  discouraged.  It 
seemed  to  me  that  a  few  weeks  on  salt  water 
would  save  my  life. 

With    high    hopes,    I    boarded    the    little 


NATURE    versus    MEDICINE 

steamer  that  plied  between  Boston  and 
Gloucester.  I  thought  it  would  be  an  easy 
matter  to  secure  board  on  one  of  the  many 
vessels  that  made  short  trips  after  mackerel. 
For  three  days  I  haunted  the  wharves  in  vain. 
The  "  skippers,"  one  and  all,  gave  the  same 
reason  for  refusing  my  offers.  "  We  are  go- 
ing after  fish,"  said  they,  "  and  cannot  be 
bothered  with  a  sick  man."  At  last  one 
"  skipper  "  discouraged  me  completely.  He 
said  to  me :  "I  once  took  a  sick  man  on 
board,  and  because  we  did  not  strike  fish,  the 
fishermen  called  the  passenger  a  Jonah,  and 
made  his  life  miserable.  Three  days  after 
we  returned  he  died,  and  I  swore  then  that 
I  never  would  take  another  sick  man  to  sea." 
This  "  skipper's "  story,  and  my  fruitless 
efforts  caused  me  to  abandon  the  salt  water 
cure.  I  turned  now  to  the  hills  around 
Gloucester.  In  the  end  I  selected  Bond's  Hill, 
because  it  was  surrounded  by  pine  groves. 

I    found   the   hill   covered   with   blueberry 
and  huckleberry  bushes,  the  latter  loaded  with 
fruit.     On  the  brow  of  the  hill  the  soil  had 
13 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

been  washed  away,  leaving  great  masses  of 
bed  rock  (granite)  towering  above  the  cot- 
tages that  clung  to  the  base  of  the  cliff.  On 
the  extreme  brow  of  the  hill  I  found  a  spot 
where  the  soil  had  gathered  and  maintained 
a  grass-plot.  Here  I  pitched  my  little  tent. 
Here  I  lived  from  August  to  December.  I 
called  the  spot  the  Eyrie,  because  it  reminded 
me  of  the  regions  inhabited  by  eagles.  A 
visit  to  the  spot  will  disclose  the  fitness  of 
the  name. 

On  this  spot  my  eighteen  years  of  hermit 
life  begun.  At  first  I  made  it  a  practice  to 
go  to  the  city  every  day  for  one  meal,  bring- 
ing back  food  enough  to  last  until  another 
day.  I  found  the  huckleberries  good  whole- 
some food  that  did  not  aggravate  my  chronic 
dyspepsia. 

Two  weeks  of  outdoor  life  had  brought  a 
little  color  to  my  cheeks  and  had  made  me 
feel  like  a  new  man.  About  this  time  I  awoke 
in  the  morning  to  remember  that  I  had  not 
coughed  during  the  night.  The  cough  that 


14 


NATURE    versus    MEDICINE 

had  harassed  me  night  and  day  for  two  years, 
left  me  then  and  there,  never  to  return. 

Nature  was  performing  wonders  where 
medicine  had  failed. 

Before  the  month  of  September  had  ended, 
my  catarrh  disappeared,  and  I  no  longer  had 
use  for  the  douche.  From  that  time  to  this, 
I  have  been  free  from  catarrh.  I  do  not  have 
even  the  symptoms,  known  as  hay-fever. 

The  dull,  heavy  pain  that  I  had  experienced 
constantly  from  dyspepsia,  gradually  sub 
sided  and  eventually  ceased.  Since  that  time 
I  have  been  able  to  eat  any  kind  of  food, 
at  any  time,  day  or  night,  without  the  de- 
pressing pains  of  indigestion. 

During  my  first  experience,  climbing 
Bond's  Hill,  on  my  return  from  the  city, 
had  been  almost  beyond  my  strength.  I  had 
to  rest  three  times  before  reaching  my  tent. 
By  the  middle  of  November  my  strength 
had  returned  nearly  to  the  old  standard,  and 
I  mounted  the  hill  without  a  thought  of  weari- 
ness. 

Standing  one  day  on  a  massive  spur  of 
15 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

bed  rock,  near  my  tent,  my  thoughts  went 
back  to  the  statement  of  the  doctors  in  rela- 
tion to  my  lungs.  I  had  just  ascended  the 
hill,  without  a  long  breath,  and  a  hale, 
hearty  feeling  pervaded  every  fibre  of  my 
system.  I  knew,  then,  that  my  lungs  were 
all  right,  and  thanks  to  Nature,  I  had  re- 
covered my  health  and  stood  there  compara- 
tively a  well  man. 

While  I  was  yet  weak,  I  passed  many 
hours  at  the  Eyrie,  entranced  by  the  magnif- 
icent panorama  spread  before  me.  I  could 
see  the  larger  part  of  the  city  of  Gloucester, 
which  extended,  in  a  semicircle,  from  River- 
dale  to  Eastern  Point. 

Later  in  the  season  I  watched  the  ebb  and 
flow  of  the  tide  on  the  marshes  that  border 
Annisquam  River. 

The  Outer  Harbor,  with  Ten  Pound  Island 
near  the  entrance  of  the  Inner  Harbor,  lay 
in  plain  view,  and  the  shifting  scenes  on  its 
restless  waters  possessed  a  fascination  which 
I  could  seldom  resist. 

Day  after  day  I  watched  the  vessels  of  the 
16 


NATURE    versus    MEDICINE 

fishing  fleet  as  they  rounded  Eastern  Point, 
bound  outward  or  inward.  These  vessels  were 
models  of  beauty,  and  looked  as  if  they  were 
built  for  racing  instead  of  fishing.  I  often 
compared  them  with  the  clumsy  coasters  that 
rode  at  anchor  in  the  Outer  Harbor. 

Now  and  then  a  vessel,  homeward  bound, 
rounded  Eastern  Point  with  her  flag  half- 
mast.  Mute  reminder  of  the  hardships  and 
perils  of  a  fisherman's  life. 

Every  morning  soon  after  it  had  become 
light  enough  to  see,  several  boats  could  be 
seen  rowing  shoreward.  Usually  there  was 
only  one  man  to  a  boat.  It  did  not  take  me 
long  to  find  out  that  these  lone  rowers  coming 
in  out  of  the  night  were  fishermen  that  pulled 
their  lobster-pots  after  one  o'clock  in  the 
morning.  I  saw  another  lone  fisherman  sail 
out  of  the  harbor  every  morning  when  there 
was  wind  enough  to  fill  a  dory  sail.  Day 
after  day  he  sailed  or  rowed  out  to  sea  to 
fish  for  shore  codfish.  He  supported  a  large 
family  from  the  proceeds  of  his  labor,  but 
the  life  was  lonely  and  perilous.  I  watched 
17 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

his  return  once  when  the  wind  was  blowing 
a  fierce  gale.  The  little  boat  would  careen 
until  the  sail  trailed  in  the  water  and  it 
seemed  to  me  that  she  must  capsize.  At  the 
last  moment  she  would  come  up  into  the  wind 
and  right.  In  this  slow,  dangerous  manner 
she  was  worked  to  the  mouth  of  Annisquam 
River  and  tied  up  above  the  Cut  Bridge. 
The  next  day  I  asked  the  fisherman  how  he 
had  managed  to  keep  his  boat  right  side  up. 
"  Oh,  that  was  easy.  When  she  heeled  too 
much,  I  shook  her  up,  and  kept  her  from 
taking  in  water."  "  Shook  her  up,"  was  a 
new  phrase  to  me. 

Below  my  Eyrie  lay  the  little  hamlet  called 
the  Cut.  Some  of  its  cottages  had  straggled 
up  to  the  base  of  the  cliff  just  below  the  tent. 

I  could  look  down  on  a  long  stretch  of 
Western  Avenue  beginning  at  the  Cut  and 
ending  in  Ward  Five,  beyond  the  Cut  Bridge. 
The  latter  was  a  drawbridge,  and  when  open 
the  city  of  Gloucester  was  on  an  island,  with 
the  exception  of  Ward  Eight,  which  lies  on 
the  west  side  of  Annisquam  River. 
18 


NATURE    versus    MEDICINE 


I  had  located  in  Ward  Eight,  but  at  the 
time  did  not  know  anything  in  relation  to  its 
size,  as  compared  with  the  other  wards  of  the 
city.  A  glance  at  the  map  in  the  city  direc- 
tory showed  me  that  Ward  Eight  was  larger 
in  area  than  all  the  other  wards  combined. 
I  also  found  that  it  comprised  within  its  limits 
the  Cut,  Fresh  Water  Cove,  West  Gloucester, 
and  Magnolia.  It  pleased  me  much  to  find 
that  it  contained  about  twelve  thousand  acres 
of  shrub  land  and  forest. 

Two-thirds  of  the  way  from  the  Cut  to 
the  drawbridge,  Essex  Avenue  connects  with 
Western  Avenue.  Essex  Avenue  crosses  the 
marsh  to  West  Gloucester,  and  is  the  high- 
way into  the  city  for  Essex  and  other  distant 
towns.  There  is  a  constant  stream  of  travel 
over  this  highway,  divided  among  farmers, 
icemen,  and  pleasure-seekers.  The  travel  on 
Western  Avenue  is  now,  and  was  then,  made 
up  largely  from  the  summer  colonies  at  Mag- 
nolia and  Manchester.  Showy  turnouts 
passed  and  repassed,  so  that  I  had  enough  to 
attract  my  attention  from  sunrise  to  sunset. 
19 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 


HermttsWIld 


When  facing  the  harbor,  I  could  turn  to  the 
left  and  look  across  the  marsh  to  Dogtown 
Common.  I  had  to  look  above  and  beyond 
a  straggling  portion  of  the  city.  Dogtown 
Common,  in  Revolutionary  days,  contained 
forty  dwellings ;  now  it  was  houseless.  I  saw 
only  a  boulder-covered  region  of  pasture-land, 
choked  by  huckleberry  and  blueberry  bushes, 
with  here  and  there  large  tangles  of  catbrier. 

Some  of  the  sunsets  seen  from  the  Eyrie 
were  beautiful  beyond  description.  Whenever 
a  massive  bank  of  clouds  hung  above  the 
western  horizon,  the  setting  sun  illuminated 
the  city  from  Riverdale  to  Eastern  Point, 
and  every  window  in  sight  glowed  like  bur- 
nished gold. 

Until  the  middle  of  November  the  weather 
continued  mild  and  balmy,  with  but  a  few 
stormy  days.  I  recall,  with  pleasure  and 
satisfaction,  the  evenings  passed  at  the  Eyrie. 
Perched  on  the  brow  of  the  cliff,  I  studied 
the  city  by  moonlight,  lamplight,  and  gas- 
light. On  dark  nights  the  lights  of  the  city 
took  on  the  shape  of  a  huge  monster,  half- 
20 


NATURE    versus    MEDICINE 

coiled,  and  extended  from  Riverdale  to  East- 
ern Point  Light.  The  latter  is  a  revolving 
red  light,  and  it  gave  the  semblance  of  life 
to  the  one-eyed  monster  which  constantly 
blinked  its  great  red  eye.  It  pleased  me  to 
call  this  imaginary  monster  the  sea-serpent. 
Gloucester  owes  her  growth  to  the  sea,  and 
she  might  well  take  on  the  shape  of  the  sea- 
serpent. 

When  the  danger-signals  were  up,  the 
Outer  Harbor  was  crowded  with  craft  of  all 
kinds.  At  night  time  the  tossing  lights  on 
the  vessels  contrasted  strangely  with  the  fixed 
lights  on  shore. 

The  twin  lights  on  Thatcher's  Island  could 
be  seen  from  the  Eyrie,  and  I  often  wondered 
if  these  lights  were  necessary.  To  the  middle 
of  November  I  had  seen  the  sea  only  in  com- 
paratively fair  weather,  when  it  was  on  its 
good  behavior.  Afterward  a  storm  that 
wrecked  my  tent,  and  brought  in  its  wake  huge 
waves  that  thundered  against  the  headlands 
of  Cape  Ann,  caused  me  to  wonder  in  another 
direction.  It  seems  incredible,  but  it  is  a 
21 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

fact,  that  I  could  feel  the  solid  rock  tremble 
beneath  my  tent  from  the  shock  of  wave 
against  headland,  one  fourth  of  a  mile  dis- 
tant. 

The  storm  died  out,  but  it  left  an  impression 
on  my  mind  that  caused  me  to  look  for  a 
locality  less  exposed  to  the  wind.  I  found 
an  ideal  spot  on  the  "  Old  Salem  Road."  The 
spot  was  surrounded  by  wooded  hills,  where 
a  little  brook  crept  out  of  a  swamp  and  crossed 
to  the  south  side  of  the  old  highway.  After 
crossing  the  highway,  the  waters  of  the  brook 
went  tumbling  and  singing  down  to  another 
swamp,  where  they  were  lost  in  a  tangle  of 
moss,  ferns,  and  marsh-marigolds. 

The  Old  Salem  Road  had  been  deserted 
more  than  one  hundred  years,  save  as  a  wood 
road  in  winter.  At  one  time  it  was  the  con- 
necting link  between  Salem  and  Gloucester. 
Seven  ruined  cellars  indicate  the  spots  where 
dwelling-houses  once  stood. 

I  moved  my  tent  from  the  Eyrie,  and  put 
it  up  within  the  limits  of  the  old  highway, 


NATURE    versus    MEDICINE 

and  begun  to  build  a  little  log  cabin  in  which 
to  spend  the  winter. 

While  in  the  tent  I  experienced  zero 
weather,  and  it  may  be  of  interest  to  know 
how  I  managed  to  keep  warm.  I  had  picked 
up  two  discarded  milk-cans,  and  these  I  filled 
with  hard  wood  coals  from  a  fire  which  I 
maintained  near  the  tent.  By  closing  the 
flaps  of  the  tent  the  heat  from  the  cans  would 
keep  up  an  even  temperature  through  the 
night.  If  it  happened  to  get  cold  toward 
morning  I  would  burn  a  newspaper  now  and 
then,  which  would  warm  the  tent  until  light 
enough  to  start  an  outdoor  fire.  I  baked 
beans  in  a  hole  in  the  ground,  in  true  Maine 
camp  style.  There  would  be  coals  enough 
under  the  bean-pot,  in  the  morning,  to  cook 
coffee,  and  hot  coffee  and  baked  beans  seemed 
to  go  to  the  right  spot  when  the  thermometer 
was  hanging  around  zero,  and  one  was  living 
in  a  cotton  tent. 

I  did  my  cooking  on  a  bed  of  red  hot  coals, 
thus  avoiding  smoked  food  and  the  loss  of 
coffee-pot  handle  or  spout.  Hemlock  bark 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

from  a  dead  tree  will  give  the  best  coals  in 
the  shortest  time. 

By  the  middle  of  December  I  had  moved 
into  my  log  cabin.  I  put  in  a  second-hand 
range,  which  proved  to  be  an  excellent  baker 
and  warmed  the  cabin  in  the  coldest  weather. 
The  remainder  of  the  winter  "  I  was  as  snug 
as  a  bug  in  a  rug,"  to  use  an  old  familiar 
adage. 

Before  the  winter  months  had  passed,  chick- 
adees, black  snowbirds,  and  tree-sparrows 
found  their  way  into  the  cabin  dooryard. 
I  fed  lard  to  the  chickadees  on  a  chip,  and  the 
birds  would  eat  this  clear  fat,  at  short  inter- 
vals, all  day,  and  come  around  the  next  morn- 
ing none  the  worse  for  the  strange  diet.  Cer- 
tainly such  food  would  kill  any  other  bird. 
The  snow-birds  and  sparrows  were  fed  on 
different  kinds  of  bird-seed.  When  I  mention 
sparrows  I  do  not  refer  to  the  English  spar- 
row. I  am  pleased  to  state  that  this  unde- 
sirable alien  does  not  come  to  my  dooryard. 
The  tree-sparrow  is  a  native  bird,  and  here 
on  the  Cape,  is  seen  only  in  winter.  It  comes 
24 


NATURE    versus    MEDICINE 

to  us  in  October,  and  leaves  by  the  first  of 
April.  The  tree-sparrow  is  an  interesting 
bird  to  know.  It  comes  to  us  in  the  winter 


TREE    SPARROW. 


when  the  most  of  our  birds  are  in  the  South. 
It  is  a  handsome  bird  from  a  sparrow  stand- 
point. 

The  crown  is  a  bright  chestnut,  and  there 
are  chestnut  markings  on  the  side  of  the  head 
25 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

and  on  the  bend  of  the  wing.  The  back  is 
boldly  streaked  with  black,  bay,  and  light 
gray.  There  is  much  white  edging  to  the 
feathers  of  the  tail  and  wings  in  winter.  A 
few  of  these  birds  stopped  about  the  cabin 
all  winter;  but  a  flock  numbering  hundreds 
wintered  on  Bond's  Hill.  On  warm  days  they 
roamed  over  the  hill,  far  and  near,  always 
flying  low  and  keeping  well  down  in  the 
shrubby  growth.  But  when  the  weather  was 
cold  I  would  find  them  in  a  sheltered  spot, 
where  meadowsweet,  bayberry,  hardhack, 
blueberry,  huckleberry,  and  sweet-fern  shrubs 
crowded  each  other  until  their  interwoven 
branches  held  a  mantle  of  snow.  Beneath  this 
shelter  the  birds  seemed  to  find  food,  for 
they  were  busy  at  all  hours  of  the  day.  I 
passed  many  hours  watching  them  while  they 
were  thus  secluded.  Invariably  I  found  them 
chirping  to  each  other,  and  by  listening  closely 
I  could  catch  snatches  of  song  low  and  sweet. 
The  last  of  March  their  low  song  could  be 
heard  in  the  shrub-lands.  Later,  when  the 


NATURE    versus    MEDICINE 


song-sparrows  and  bluebirds  swelled  the 
chorus,  the  tree-sparrows  silently  disappeared. 
April  3d,  in  the  morning,  I  found  a  large 
flock  of  fox-sparrows  in  the  dooryard.  It 
is  somewhat  singular  that  for  three  years 
they  appeared  on  the  same  day  of  the  month. 
One  year,  April  3,  1887,  I  awoke  in  the 
morning  to  find  three  feet  of  snow  in  the  door- 
yard,  and  I  was  obliged  to  shovel  the  snow 
away  in  order  to  feed  the  sparrows  on  bare 
ground.  The  fox-sparrow  is  two-thirds  as 
large  as  a  robin,  and  may  be  classed  with  the 
beautiful  birds  both  in  form  and  coloration. 
The  sexes  are  alike.  The  color  above  is  a 
rich  rusty  red,  deepest  and  brightest  on  the 
wings,  tail,  and  rump.  The  head,  neck,  and 
shoulders  are  a  dark  ash-color,  more  or  less 
streaked  with  rusty  red.  Below  the  ground- 
work is  snow-white,  also  thickly  spotted  with 
rust  red.  It  could  be  called  a  wood-thrush 
by  a  careless  observer.  These  birds  are  mi- 
grants with  us,  and  pass  through  the  State 
to  their  breeding-grounds  in  April,  to  return 
in  October.  It  is  usually  six  weeks  from  the 
27 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

time  the  first  flock  appears  before  the  loiterers 
are  all  gone.  The  flock  that  called  on  me  was 
a  very  large  one,  numbering  over  one  hun- 
dred birds.  Mornings  they  made  the  woods 
ring  with  their  delightful  music. 


BAT -WINGED    BUNTING. 


When  the  birds  returned  in  April  and  May, 
I  found  that  I  was  a  trespasser  on  the  nest- 
ing-ground of  many  a  woodland  bird.  Cat- 
birds, towhee-buntings,  robins,  thrushes,  and 
numerous  warblers  nested  around  my  cabin. 

By  this  time  I  had  settled  down  to  hermit- 
28 


NATURE    versus    MEDICINE 

life  in  earnest.  I  had  tried  the  experiment 
of  "  Nature  versus  Medicine,"  and  Nature  had 
triumphed.  With  good  health,  with  strange 


BLACKBIRD. 


birds  and  flowers  to  study  and  identify,  I 
was  content  to  spend  a  portion  of  my  rescued 
life  in  Dame  Nature's  company. 
29 


II. 

SATAN    THE    RACCOON 

DURING  the  early  years  of  my  hermit-life, 
I  had  caged  many  small  animals,  such  as 
deer-mice,  raccoons,  woodchucks,  chipmunks, 
flying  -  squirrels, 
stoats,  mink,  and 
red  and  gray  squir- 
rels. 

My  first  captive 
was  an  artful  old 
coon.  I  caught 

him  in  a  small  steel 
RACCOON'S  HEAD. 

trap,   the  jaws   of 

which  had  been  wound  with  cloth  as  a  pro- 
tection to  the  foot.  The  den  was  under  a 
boulder  near  the  cabin.  I  set  the  trap  at 
the  mouth  of  the  den  and  covered  it  with 
30 


SATAN    THE    RACCOON 

leaves.  The  next  morning  the  trap,  with  clog 
attached,  was  missing.  There  was  a  trail 
in  the  dead  leaves  easily  followed.  While 
following  the  zigzag  trail  I  was  in  plain  sight 
of  the  coon,  but  he  remained  quiet  until  he 
found  that  he  was  discovered,  then  made  fran- 
tic efforts  to  escape.  The  clog  had  anchored 
him  securely  to  some  witch-hazel  shrubs.  He 
was  full  of  fight,  and  I  had  to  look  out  for 
his  teeth  and  claws.  I  had  brought  along 
a  stout  piece  of  duck,  which  I  wrapped  around 
the  raccoon,  trap  and  all;  thus  secure  from 
his  wicked  teeth  and  claws,  I  toted  him  to 
the  cabin. 

It  took  me  two  hours  to  put  a  strap  on  his 
neck.  The  struggle  was  a  desperate  one. 
Without  the  duck  it  would  have  been  a  vic- 
tory for  the  raccoon.  When  I  had  the  strap 
securely  fastened  and  a  dog-chain  attached, 
I  removed  the  trap  from  his  foot,  then  staked 
him  out  near  the  cabin.  For  two  weeks  he 
tried  night  and  day  to  free  himself  from 
collar  and  chain,  then  suddenly  appeared  to 
be  contented. 

31 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

Instinct  plays  no  part  in  coon  lore.  A 
coon  can  reason  as  well  as  the  average  human 
being.  My  captive  proved  to  be  as  artful 
and  wicked  as  Beelzebub  himself. 

Whenever  my  back  was  turned  he  would 
be  up  to  all  sorts  of  mischief.  When  caught 
red-handed  he  could  put  on  a  look  of  inno- 
cence too  comical  for  anything.  By  the  end 
of  the  first  month  he  had  got  all  of  my  ways 
of  life  down  fine.  If  I  went  into  the  woods 
with  my  gun,  on  my  return  he  would  tear 
around  in  his  cage  anxious  for  the  squirrel 
he  had  not  seen,  but  was  sure  to  get.  When 
I  went  away  without  the  gun,  he  paid  no 
attention  on  my  return.  I  do  not  think  he 
was  guided  by  scent,  for  sometimes  the  wind 
would  not  be  right.  Without  doubt  he  con- 
nected the  gun  and  squirrel  in  his  mind,  and 
perhaps  knew  more  about  a  gun  than  I 
thought. 

He  did  not  take  kindly  to  cage-life,  al- 
though his  cage  was  under  a  small  pine-tree, 
so  when  I  was  about  the  cabin  I  chained  him 
to  the  tree  and  let  him  run  outside.  I  put 
32 


SATAN    THE    RACCOON 


him  into  the  cage  every  day  before  going 
to  the  city  for  my  mail.  He  resented  this, 
and  would  run  up  the  pine-tree  when  he  saw 
me  lock  the  cabin-door.  One  day  I  pulled 
him  down  and  whipped  him  while  he  lay  prone 
on  the  ground,  with  his  eyes  covered.  I  took 
away  his  food  and  water.  He  must  have  been 
downright  hungry  before  I  fed  him.  He  never 
forgot  the  lesson.  After  that,  when  he  saw 
me  lock  up  he  would  sneak  into  his  cage,  fear- 
ful, I  suppose,  that  if  found  outside  he  would 
be  whipped  and  starved.  He  preferred  food 
in  the  order  herein  named :  insects,  eggs,  birds 
or  poultry,  frogs,  nuts,  red  squirrel,  rabbit, 
gray  squirrel,  and  fish.  This,  without  doubt, 
was  the  bill  of  fare  of  his  wild  state.  He 
would  not  touch  green  corn  or  milk  until  I 
had  crushed  the  former  into  his  mouth,  and 
had  dipped  his  nose  into  the  latter.  After- 
ward he  would  leave  everything  for  milk. 

The  first  rabbit  I  fed  to  him  was  about 

two-thirds  grown.     It  was  one  which  a  mink 

had  chased  into  my  dooryard  and  killed.     It 

was  evident  from  the  first  that  the  coon  was 

33 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

no  stranger  to  this  kind  of  food.  He  opened 
the  rabbit's  mouth  with  his  fore  paws  and  ate 
out  the  tongue,  after  which  he  skinned  the 
head,  turning  the  skin  back  over  the  neck. 
He  crushed  the  bones  of  the  head  and  lapped 
out  the  brains.  On  the  third  day  he  had  fin- 
ished the  rabbit,  and  the  skin  was  turned  in- 
side out,  even  to  the  ends  of  the  toes.  Squir- 
rels were  skinned  in  the  same  manner. 

This  coon  decided  for  me  a  disputed  ques- 
tion. I  refer  to  the  whimper  or  cry  of  the 
coon.  Night  after  night,  in  the  nutting  sea- 
son, he  would  call  to  his  comrades,  and  they 
would  answer  from  the  surrounding  woods. 

When  the  sweet  acorns  were  ripe,  Satan 
was  unusually  active  early  in  the  evening. 
At  this  early  hour  the  coons  were  abroad  in 
search  for  food,  and  Satan  scented  them,  and 
did  his  best  to  attract  their  attention.  One 
coon  passed  near  the  cabin  every  night  and 
answered  Satan's  cries,  so  I  imagined  that 
it  was  his  mate. 

Many  writers  claim  that  the  tremulous  cry 
attributed  to  the  coon  is  made  by  the  little 
34 


SATAN    THE    RACCOON 


screech-owl  (Scops  a$io).  It  is  true,  doubtless, 
that  people  that  do  not  know  both  cries  may 
make  such  a  mistake. 

The  little  owls  appear  to  resent  my  intru- 
sion on  their  vested  rights,  so  from  early 
spring  to  late  fall  they  haunt  my  sleeping- 
quarters,  and  divide  their  time  between  snap- 
ping their  beaks  and  uttering  their  monoto- 
nous notes.  As  I  sleep  in  the  open  air  nine 
months  out  of  the  twelve,  I  have  a  good  chance 
to  study  both  cries,  and  could  not  mistake  one 
for  the  other. 

The  coon  is  a  ventriloquist.  His  cry  seems 
to  come  down  from  the  sky.  A  friend  came 
in  from  the  city  one  night  to  hear  the  coon 
cry.  It  was  a  moonlight  night,  and  the  coon 
was  staked  out  in  the  dooryard.  My  friend 
was  not  looking  when  the  first  cry  was  uttered, 
but  claimed  that  the  sound  came  from  the  trees 
overhead.  Afterward  he  saw  the  coon  in  the 
act,  and  could  not  make  a  mistake. 

When  Satan  uttered  the  cry,  he  was  always 
sitting  on  his  haunches.  He  would  throw  his 
head  up  until  his  nose  pointed  skyward,  then 
35 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

blow  the  sound  out  between  his  half -closed 
lips. 

My  friend  had  brought  in  a  blanket  and 
hammock,  and  was  prepared  to  spend  the  night 
in  the  open  air.  He  slung  his  hammock  near 
mine,  and  we  turned  in  about  ten  o'clock.  He 
was  nervous  and  restless,  and  said  he  could 
not  sleep  with  the  little  owls  about  him.  Every 
fifteen  or  twenty  minutes  he  would  call  to 
me  to  ask  about  some  noise  of  the  night,  com- 
mon enough,  but  which  appeared  strange  and 
startling  to  him  in  the  strained  condition  of 
his  nerves.  Soon  after  midnight  a  small  ani- 
mal, doubtless  a  stoat  looking  for  an  owl 
supper,  dropped  on  to  my  friend's  blanket. 
There  was  a  smothered  cry,  full  of  fear,  and  a 
flying  figure  that  did  not  stop  until  my  ham- 
mock was  reached.  Nothing  that  I  could 
say  would  induce  the  frightened  man  to  go 
back  to  that  hammock.  He  suggested  at  last 
that  he  would  sleep  in  the  cabin.  I  assented, 
and  we  soon  had  a  bed  arranged  in  a  bunk. 
The  cabin  was  overrun  with  white-footed  mice, 
and  I  looked  for  more  trouble.  Twenty  min- 
36 


"I    BEGUN    BY    TYING    ON    A    NUT." 


SATAN    THE    RACCOON 


utes  later  I  heard  several  war-whoops,  and  I 
saw  my  friend  tumble  out  of  the  cabin  into 
the  door-yard.  "  Are  you  awake?  "  cried  he. 
"  Certainly,"  I  answered,  "  you  don't  think 
there  is  any  one  asleep  in  this  county  after  the 
racket  you  have  made,  do  you  ?  "  "  Oh,  let  up 
with  your  fooling,"  said  he,  "  this  is  a  serious 
thing.  I  sleep  with  my  mouth  open ;  suppose 
one  of  those  mice  had  run  down  my  throat 
and  choked  me  to  death?  I  am  going  home." 
And  home  he  did  go.  I  accompanied  him 
through  the  woods  to  Western  Avenue,  and 
returned  in  time  to  get  three  hours'  sleep. 
My  friend  was  like  hundreds  of  other  ner- 
vous people  that  I  had  known  in  a  lifetime, 
who  were  too  sensitive  to  enjoy  a  night  in 
the  open  air.  To  be  in  full  accord  with 
nature  one  should  get  accustomed  to  the  pres- 
ence of  a  snake  now  and  then,  in  the  open-air 
bed. 

Satan  was  an  apt  scholar.     I  taught  him 
to  pull  in  his  chain,  hand  over  hand,  sailor- 
fashion.     The  chain  was  twelve  feet  in  length. 
I  begun  by  tying  on  a  nut  about  two  feet 
37 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

from  the  coon.  He  pulled  in  the  chain  with 
his  fore  feet,  which  he  used  as  hands.  I  would 
say  to  him,  "  Pull  in  the  chain.  Pull  in  the 
chain,"  and  inside  of  a  week  he  would  obey 
the  order  without  the  use  of  food.  I  think 
he  enjoyed  the  sport. 

The  boys  that  visited  my  cabin  thought 
it  great  fun  to  play  with  Satan.  They  would 
pull  the  chain  out  and  watch  the  coon  pull 
it  in.  When  Satan  got  tired  he  would  coil 
the  chain  and  lay  on  it,  and  the  play  was 
ended  for  the  time  being.  After  he  had  rested 
awhile  he  would  go  on  with  the  play.  When 
he  was  resting,  if  a  boy  offered  to  reach  the 
chain  he  would  lay  back  his  ears,  growl,  and 
show  his  teeth.  When  he  was  ready  to  play 
he  would  sit  up  on  his  hind  feet,  prick  his 
ears  forward  and  look  clever;  then  the  boys 
could  reach  under  him  and  pull  out  the  chain 
without  danger. 

One  day,  while  the  coon  was  chained  to  a 

stake  in  the  dooryard,  he  killed  a  pet  bird 

in  a  manner  so  cruel  and  crafty,  that  it  caused 

me  to  name  him  Satan  then  and  there.     I  had 

38 


SATAN    THE    RACCOON 


placed  a  piece  of  matting  by  the  stake  to 
which  the  coon  was  chained.  He  understood 
that  the  matting  was  for  his  use,  and  he  would 
cry  to  be  fed  while  chained  out.  He  used 
the  matting  as  a  dining-table  and  bed  com- 
bined. The  pet  bird  that  was  killed  was  a 
male  catbird.  Satan  had  left  a  piece  of  cookie 
on  the  matting,  and  the  catbird  thought  to 
appropriate  it.  I  was  writing,  not  thirty  feet 
away,  and  looked  up  just  in  time  to  see  the 
flash  of  Satan's  paw.  I  shouted,  and  rushed 
to  the  rescue.  When  I  reached  the  coon  the 
bird  had  disappeared.  Satan  looked  so  inno- 
cent and  surprised  that  I  was  led  to  believe 
that  the  bird  had  escaped.  I  returned  to 
my  writing,  and  the  coon  settled  down  for  a 
nap.  An  hour  later  a  visitor  from  the  city 
called  to  get  the  loan  of  a  book  on  birds.  I 
went  to  the  cabin  for  the  book,  and  when  I 
returned  Satan  was  patting  down  the  edge  of 
the  mat.  He  saw  me,  and  put  on  his  innocent 
look.  He  coiled  up  as  if  he  were  about  to  try 
to  sleep  in  a  new  spot.  My  suspicion  was 
aroused.  I  pulled  away  the  coon  and  under 
39 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

the  mat  found  the  dead  bird.  He  had  killed 
the  bird  and  placed  it  under  him  so  swiftly 
that  I  did  not  detect  the  trick  when  I  went 
to  the  rescue.  For  a  full  hour  he  simulated 
sleep  while  he  had  the  dead  bird  under  him 
all  the  time.  When  I  went  to  the  cabin  he 
hid  the  dead  body  under  the  mat.  I  gave 
him  a  severe  whipping  and  placed  the  dead 
bird  on  his  mat.  The  next  day  I  buried  the 
body,  so  Satan  did  not  profit  by  his  crafty 
deed.  He  remembered  the  whipping,  and  ever 
after  did  not  molest  the  birds.  I  once  saw 
a  young  towhee-bunting  sit  on  his  hind  foot 
and  eat  from  a  cookie  that  the  coon  had  tried 
to  hide.  How  it  would  have  fared  with  the 
bird,  if  I  had  been  absent,  is  a  question. 

I  don't  think  Satan  had  any  respect  for 
the  Sabbath,  but  he  knew  the  day,  nevertheless. 
On  week-days,  I  returned  from  city  about 
nine  o'clock  A.  M.  Soon  after,  I  would  stake 
Satan  in  the  dooryard,  and  he  would  seem 
much  pleased  with  the  change.  I  got  up 
every  morning  at  daybreak.  My  first  duty 
was  to  feed  the  birds  and  Satan,  then  get 
40 


SATAN    THE    RACCOON 


my  breakfast.  At  first  I  did  not  let  Satan 
out  of  his  cage  on  Sundays,  on  account  of 
the  dogs  that  my  visitors  brought  along. 
Every  Sunday  morning  I  would  feed  Satan 
as  soon  as  I  was  out  of  my  hammock,  as  I 
did  on  week-day  mornings,  but  he  would  not 
eat  or  drink,  and  constantly  tried  to  open  the 
door  of  the  cage.  He  certainly  knew,  thus 
early  in  the  morning,  that  it  was  Sunday,  and 
he  would  have  to  remain  hived  up  in  his  cage 
all  day.  It  seemed  to  me,  that  if  Satan  was 
intelligent  enough  to  keep  run  of  the  days 
of  the  week,  he  ought  to  know  about  the  dogs, 
and  was  willing  to  fight  them  rather  than  be 
cooped  up  all  day.  I  knew  all  about  the 
fighting  ability  of  the  raccoon.  It  had  been 
my  good  fortune  to  observe  the  evolution  of 
a  young  coon,  from  a  helpless,  sprawling 
bunch  of  fat  and  fur,  to  an  old  coon,  with 
a  bristling  battery  of  claws  and  teeth  operated 
by  chain-lightning.  After  due  consideration 
I  concluded  to  let  Satan  take  chances  with 
the  dogs.  The  next  Sunday  I  staked  him 
in  the  dooryard  and  awaited  developments. 
41 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

A  big  Newfoundland  dog  was  the  first  to 
appear.  The  moment  he  saw  the  coon  he  made 
a  fierce  rush,  but  Satan  sprang  lightly  into 
the  air  and  landed  on  the  dog's  back.  Swiftly 
and  savagely  he  delivered  two  blows  on  the 
dog's  eyes.  The  big  brute  tore  himself  away 
from  the  coon  and  frantically  rubbed  his  eyes 
with  his  fore  paws.  When  he  could  see  a 
little,  he  "  dusted  "  for  home,  a  sadder  but 
wiser  dog. 

The  next  dog  was  a  small  one,  and  Satan 
gave  him  a  slap  under  the  ear  that  landed  him 
outside  of  the  ring,  or  beyond  the  length  of 
the  coon's  chain.  This  dog  did  not  go  home, 
but  went  to  his  master  for  sympathy.  He 
could  not  be  induced  afterward  to  look  at  the 
coon. 

Dog  number  three  proved  to  be  a  yelping 
cur.  He  did  not  attack  the  coon,  but  danced 
around  him,  yelping  all  the  time.  He  dis- 
tracted the  visitors  with  his  incessant  yelping. 
His  master  could  not  call  him  off.  Satan 
set  a  trap  for  the  cur,  and  caught  him,  too. 
He  went  to  the  stake,  pulled  in  the  chain, 
42 


SATAN    THE    RACCOON 


and  then  pretended  to  sleep.  The  dog  was 
deceived,  and  got  bolder  and  bolder  until  he 
was  near  enough  for  Satan  to  reach  him.  The 
coon  made  a  swift  rush  and  caught  the  yelp- 
ing cur,  and  handled  him  so  roughly  that  I 
was  obliged  to  rescue  him.  It  is  needless  to 
say  that  the  cur  was  cured  of  yelping. 

Satan  whipped  two  other  dogs  before  night, 
then  for  several  weeks  had  no  trouble  worth 
mentioning.  Now  and  then,  through  the 
summer,  a  strange  dog  would  attack  Satan 
and  get  whipped. 

There  is  a  class  of  writers  that  claim  that 
the  lower  animals  cannot  reason.  That  such 
animals  are  controlled  by  instinct.  I  have 
ever  found  the  lower  animals  as  intelligent 
in  relation  to  the  needs  of  their  lives  as  we 
are  to  ours.  Satan  proved  to  me  and  to  others 
that  he  could  reason,  also  that  he  could  take 
advantage  of  new  circumstances.  Visitors 
often  gave  Satan  a  dirty  nut,  which  he  would 
clean  by  rubbing  it  between  his  paws.  This 
trick  was  played  on  the  coon  constantly. 
Satan  invented  a  new  way  to  clean  a  nut.  He 
43 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

would  take  it  to  the  mat  and  roll  it  under 
his  fore  paw.  How  did  he  find  out  that  he 
could  clean  a  nut  on  the  mat?  There  was 
no  instinct,  as  I  afterward  proved.  When 
visitors  were  feeding  nuts  to  him  I  dusted 
his  mat  with  ashes.  Satan  would  take  a  nut 
and  start  for  the  mat,  but  his  keen  sight 
would  detect  the  ashes,  and  he  would  stop, 
sit  up,  and  clean  the  nut  in  the  old  way. 

In  November  I  trapped  another  coon,  a 
young  male.  Doubtless  he  was  the  son  of 
Satan,  for  he  was  from  the  same  den.  I 
knew,  too,  that  he  was  born  after  Satan  was 
captured,  so  they  could  have  no  knowledge 
of  each  other.  I  thought  I  would  put  the 
young  coon  in  Satan's  cage  and  see  if  the 
old  fellow  would  recognize  his  own  flesh  and 
blood.  If  he  did,  I  would  have  to  admit  that 
it  was  a  case  of  instinct.  When  I  put  them 
together  a  desperate  fight  took  place.  The 
young  coon  was  soon  whipped  and  tried  to 
hide.  Satan  followed  him  up,  but  suddenly 
began  to  sniff.  He  dropped  his  nose  on  to 
the  young  coon's  ears,  sniffing  all  the  time. 
44 


SATAN    THE    RACCOON 

Instantly  his  savage  look  changed  for  one 
of  pleasure.  His  ears,  that  just  now  were 
flat  on  his  head,  pricked  up,  and  the  lips, 
which  were  drawn  back,  showing  the  cruel 
teeth,  fell  into  place.  He  put  his  arms  around 
the  young  coon's  neck  and  dragged  him  into 
the  nest.  Then  he  licked  his  ears  and  head, 
purring  all  the  time  like  a  big  cat.  Satan 
had  recognized  his  son.  I  had  noticed  that 
the  sense  employed  was  of  smell,  and  not  of 
sight.  I  readily  understood  the  meaning. 
The  young  coon  carried  the  scent  of  his 
mother,  and  Satan  had  recognized  it,  and  with 
subtle  reasoning  had  concluded  that  he  had 
found  his  own  offspring.  Afterward  I 
trapped  five  coons.  One  was  an  adult.  I 
put  the  four  young  coons,  one  at  a  time,  into 
Satan's  cage.  Two  of  these  were  from  the 
old  den,  and  Satan  recognized  them  at  once 
after  sniffing  them.  The  other  two  were  from 
a  distant  den,  and  as  soon  as  Satan  put  his 
nose  on  their  ears  he  fell  to  mauling  them, 
and  I  was  obliged  to  take  them  out  to  save 
their  lives. 

45 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

I  could  handle  Satan  whenever  or  however 
I  pleased,  and  he  would  not  lose  his  temper. 
It  would  be  dangerous  for  a  stranger  to  put 
a  hand  on  him.  One  could  almost  step  on 
him  and  he  would  not  take  offence,  but  he 
drew  the  line  at  touch.  During  the  nine 
months  that  he  was  in  my  possession  he  at- 
tacked but  one  person.  I  met  the  gentleman 
in  question  at  Barnum's  Show,  on  Stage  Fort. 
After  the  people  had  entered  the  main  tent 
I  stopped  some  time  in  the  animal  tent.  I 
noticed  a  dudish-looking  fellow  acting  in  a 
peculiar  manner  before  a  cage  containing  two 
lions.  I  was  interested,  and  strolled  over  to 
the  cage.  The  fellow  was  a  dude  beyond  a 
doubt.  He  wore  a  cowboy  hat,  a  checkered 
coat,  a  crimson  vest,  and  lavender  colored 
trousers.  He  was  trying  to  look  the  lions  out 
of  countenance.  The  big  African  lion,  the 
male,  seemed  to  feel  uneasy  under  the  fixed 
gaze  of  the  dude,  and  at  last  crowded  behind 
his  mate.  "  See  him  cower  and  hide,"  cried 
the  fellow,  addressing  me.  "  The  human  eye, 
intelligently  used,  can  subdue  the  most  fero- 
46 


"WITH  A  SAVAGE    SNARL    HE    SPRANG    ON   TO    THE  DUDE. 


SATAN    THE    RACCOON 


cious  brute  living.  I  could  enter  that  cage 
and  handle  those  lions  as  I  would  kittens." 
I  did  not  dispute  his  assertion,  and  he  asked 
if  the  woods  about  Gloucester  harbored  wild 
animals.  I  told  him  about  my  raccoon.  He 
suggested  that  it  would  please  him  to  tame  the 
coon  for  me,  and  offered  to  accompany  me 
home. 

When  the  show  was  over  I  missed  the  lion- 
tamer,  but  the  next  day  he  came  down  the 
hill  to  the  cabin,  resplendent  in  his  checkered 
coat,  crimson  vest,  and  lavender  trousers.  As 
soon  as  he  had  said  good  morning  he  threw  off 
his  hat  and  coat  and  started  the  circus.  He 
fixed  his  gaze  on  the  coon  and  slowly  ap- 
proached him,  stamping  his  feet  while  he 
cried,  in  a  commanding  tone,  "  Down,  sir, 
down,  sir !  "  Satan  looked  at  the  dude,  then 
looked  toward  me.  This  was  something  new, 
and  he  wanted  my  opinon.  When  he  found 
that  I  remained  quiet,  he  concluded  to  act 
for  himself.  With  a  savage  snarl  he  sprang 
on  to  the  dude  and  fastened  his  claws  in  the 
lavender  trousers.  The  dude,  half-frightened 
47 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

to  death,  jumped  backward  beyond  the  length 
of  Satan's  chain.  Satan  held  on,  and  the 
trousers  were  stripped  from  the  hips  to  the 
knees.  Fortunately,  the  coon's  claws  did  not 
reach  the  flesh. 

The  dude  put  on  a  pair  of  my  trousers, 
and  with  needle  and  silk  I  essayed  to  mend 
the  lavender  wreck.  My  work  was  rather 
clumsy.  I  should  starve  to  death  if  I  de- 
pended on  the  needle.  I  toiled  and  wrestled 
for  two  hours  with  that  piece  of  work.  It 
was  a  warm  day,  and  I  was  nearly  drowned 
in  my  own  perspiration. 

The  dude  put  on  the  mended  trousers  and 
left  me  without  saying  so  much  as  "  thank 
you."  Thus  was  Hood's  "  Song  of  the  Shirt  " 
verified. 

On  the  approach  of  cold  weather  I  made 
arrangements  to  winter  Satan  in  the  cabin. 
I  placed  a  box  inside,  and  the  cage  outside, 
and  connected  the  two  by  a  passage  made 
of  boards.  The  passage  was  eight  inches 
square,  and  near  the  end  that  entered  the 
cage  I  had  hung  a  swinging  door  to  keep 
48 


SATAN    THE    RACCOON 


the  cold  air  from  the  nest  inside.  I  expected 
Satan  would  have  to  be  taught  the  use  of 
the  swinging  door.  After  everything  was 
arranged  I  put  Satan  into  the  cage,  and  at 
once  he  saw  the  change  that  had  been  made. 
He  investigated  the  passage  with  his  handy 
paws,  and  when  he  found  he  could  move  the 
swinging  door  he  passed  through  into  the 
box  inside.  After  he  had  satisfied  himself 
that  the  nest  was  all  right,  he  came  out. 

To  tell  the  truth,  I  was  somewhat  sur- 
prised by  the  ingenuity  displayed.  Satan's 
comprehension  was  equal  to  that  of  a  human 
being.  I  removed  the  chain  and  collar,  and 
the  coon  and  I  settled  down  for  the  winter. 
I  had  arranged  a  cover  to  Satan's  nest-box, 
and  evenings  I  would  give  him  the  freedom  of 
the  cabin.  Inside  of  a  week  he  knew  the 
contents  of  the  cabin  better  than  I  did.  The 
light  puzzled  him.  Once,  and  once  only,  he 
touched  the  lamp-chimney.  He  would  look 
on  gravely  while  I  would  blow  out  the  lamp 
and  relight  it  again. 

One  night  I  forgot  to  fasten  the  cover  in 
49 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

his  nest-box.  That  night  something  touched 
me  on  the  face  and  awoke  me.  I  remained 
quiet,  and  soon  I  felt  a  cold,  soft  touch  on 
my  cheek.  A  swift  clutch  and  I  had  Satan 
by  one  paw.  I  held  him  until  I  had  lighted 
the  lamp.  He  looked  innocent  and  grieved, 
and  tried  to  show  me  that  he  did  not  mean 
any  wrong.  He  wanted  to  know  if  I  were 
asleep  or  dead.  When  I  released  him  he 
went  to  his  box  and  raised  the  cover  so  quickly 
and  neatly  that  it  seemed  a  slight-of-hand 
performance. 

One  morning  I  neglected  to  secure  the  door 
to  Satan's  cage.  When  I  returned  that  night 
the  door  was  open  and  the  coon  was  missing. 
The  next  day  I  took  some  food  to  the  den 
under  the  boulder,  but  Satan  did  not  care 
for  food.  He  was  fat  enough  to  go  into 
hibernation,  and  had  probably  entered  upon 
the  sleep  that  would  last  till  spring.  The 
next  spring  Satan  would  come  to  the  mouth 
of  the  den  and  take  food  from  my  hand,  but 
he  was  so  crafty  that  I  could  not  get  hold 
of  his  neck.  I  thought  to  arrange  a  box- 
50 


SATAN    THE    RACCOON 

trap  in  which  to  catch  him,  when  I  could  get 
time.  One  day  I  missed  him,  and  when  I 
heard  that  a  farmer  had  caught  a  coon  in  his 
poultry-house,  and  had  killed  him,  I  knew  that 
Satan  had  sacrificed  his  life  to  his  appetite 
for  poultry.  The  reckless  act  did  not  indi- 
cate a  lack  of  reason. 

Human  beings  sacrifice  their  lives  to  appe- 
tite, so  which  of  us  will  throw  the  first  stone 
at  Satan? 


51 


III. 

WABBLES 

WABBLES  is  the  name  of  a  wild  bird.    Not  a 
book  name,  for  the  bird  is  known  to  natural- 


8ONG- SPARROW. 


ists  as  the  song-sparrow  (Melospiza  fasciata). 
I  made  Wabbles's  acquaintance  some  years 
52 


WABBLES 


ago.  On  returning  to  my  log  cabin  one  after- 
noon, I  had  found  him  in  the  dooryard, 
wounded,  bleeding,  and  exhausted.  An  ex- 
amination disclosed  a  number  four  shot  bedded 
in  the  muscle  of  the  wing- joint.  While  I 
was  removing  the  lead  Wabbles  struggled 
violently,  and  when  released,  hopped  into  the 
bushes  and  hid  himself.  I  think  he  held  a 
poor  opinion  of  my  surgical  skill.  The  next 
day  he  was  about  the  dooryard  with  other 
sparrows,  but  for  many  days  his  flight  was 
a  peculiar  wabble,  hence  his  name. 

Wabbles  was  left  behind  when,  on  the  ap- 
proach of  cold  weather,  the  song-sparrows 
migrated  southward.  He -seemed  contented, 
and  I  thought  he  would  stop  with  me  through 
the  winter,  but  one  cold  day  he  was  missing. 

Early  in  the  following  March,  I  looked  out 
upon  the  snow-banks  one  blustering  morning, 
and  saw  Wabbles  in  the  dooryard.  He  had 
returned  in  the  night,  two  weeks  ahead  of  his 
mates.  I  do  not  know  how  far  south  he  had 
wintered,  but  doubtless  he  had  remembered 
the  little  log  cabin  in  the  woods,  and  all  the 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

time  had  understood  that  food  and  a  welcome 
awaited  his  return. 

That  spring  the  sparrows  lingered  about 
my  dooryard  three  weeks  or  more,  and  then 
dispersed  to  the  neighboring  fields  and  pas- 
tures, for  the  song-sparrow  does  not  nest  in 
the  woods.  Wabbles  did  not  leave  with  the 
rest,  and  when  spring  merged  into  summer 
and  he  yet  remained,  I  understood  the  reason. 
The  male  song-sparrow  is  obliged  to  do  battle 
for  the  possession  of  a  mate,  and  Wabbles, 
with  his  tender  wing,  wisely  forbore  to  enter 
the  lists.  He  preferred  the  cool  woods  and 
free  food  to  the  sun-scorched  fields  and  a  mate- 
less  life. 

Wabbles  and  I  became  fast  friends.  He  was 
constantly  hopping  about  the  dooryard,  and 
was  always  on  hand  to  greet  me  whenever  I 
returned  from  town. 

I  slept  in  the  open  air  in  a  hammock,  with 
only  a  canvas  roof  to  keep  off  the  rain,  and 
Wabbles  made  it  his  business  to  awake  me  at 
daylight.  The  little  rogue  pursued  the  same 
method  each  morning.  He  would  hop  about 
54 


WABBLES    MADE     IT    HIS    BUSINESS     TO     AWAKE     ME     AT 
DAYLIGHT." 


WABBLES 


in  the  bushes  near  the  hammock,  and  chirp  to 
me  in  the  loud,  sharp  call-note  peculiar  to  the 
sparrow  family.  If  I  remained  quiet  he  would 
break  into  song.  He  confined  his  singing 
usually  to  the  morning  and  evening  hours. 
But  on  my  return  after  a  long  absence,  he 
would  sing  for  a  short  time,  regardless  of 
the  time  of  day.  It  was  a  bird's  method  of 
expressing  joy.  I  thought  that  he  prized  my 
companionship  and  disliked  to  be  left  alone. 

That  fall  Wabbles  migrated  with  his  mates, 
but  the  next  spring  he  returned  as  before,  two 
weeks  ahead  of  the  main  flock.  He  lingered 
about  the  cabin  until  the  mating  season  ap- 
proached, when  he  disappeared  for  five  days. 
On  his  return  he  brought  with  him  a  mate  — 
a  shy,  demure  little  wife. 

Wabbles  wanted  to  set  up  housekeeping  in 
the  woods,  so  he  showed  Mrs.  Wabbles  all  the 
nooks,  sly  corners,  and  sheltered  spots,  but  it 
was  useless;  she  positively  refused  to  build 
a  nest  beneath  the  trees.  She  flew  away  to  the 
fields,  and  Wabbles  followed  her. 

Three  weeks  later,  when  returning  from 
55  ' 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 


town,  I  heard  his  familiar  call  by  the  road- 
side. He  came  hurriedly  through  the  bushes 
and  fluttered  to  my  feet.  He  appeared  over- 
joyed to  see  me,  and  greedily  ate  the  cracker- 
crumbs  I  gave  him.  When  he  flew  away,  I 
followed  him.  He  led  me  a  long  distance  to 
a  field,  where  I  found  Mrs.  Wabbles  sitting 
on  four  dainty,  speckled  eggs.  The  nest  was 
in  the  open  field,  beneath  a  tuft  of  grass. 

Three  baby  sparrows  were  reared  from  this 
nest.  When  they  were  big  enough  to  fly, 
I  expected  that  Wabbles  would  move  his  whole 
family  to  the  woods,  provided  Mrs.  Wabbles 
would  consent,  which  I  much  doubted.  Sure 
enough,  early  in  autumn  Wabbles  returned, 
but  he  was  alone.  I  fancied  that  he  had  de- 
serted his  family  for  my  companionship  and 
a  life  in  the  woods.  But  not  so.  His  visit 
was  a  matter  of  business.  He  wanted  to  know 
how  the  supplies  of  food  held  out.  After  he 
had  satisfied  himself  he  flew  away,  but  the  next 
day  returned  with  one  of  the  baby  birds. 
Wabbles  fussed  over  this  bird  all  day  long. 
He  called  the  little  one  into  the  dooryard  and 
56 


WABBLES 


stuffed  it  with  crumbs,  then  into  the  garden 
and  stuffed  it  with  insects.  He  kept  up  a 
constant  chirping  meanwhile,  and  I  thought 
he  made  much  of  the  fuss  and  bustle  to  keep 
the  baby  from  being  homesick.  That  night 
he  flew  away  with  his  charge,  and  the  next 
day  did  not  appear.  Undoubtedly  Mrs.  Wab- 
bles had  given  him  a  piece  of  her  mind  for 
taking  her  baby  to  the  woods. 

Three  days  later,  however,  Wabbles  re- 
turned, and  brought  with  him  two  of  the 
babies.  This  day,  for  fuss  and  bustle,  was 
like  the  first,  but  that  night,  instead  of  taking 
the  birds  out  to  the  fields,  he  put  them  to 
bed  in  a  hemlock-tree  near  my  hammock,  after 
which  he  flew  away.  The  next  day  he  brought 
in  the  other  baby,  leaving  Mrs.  Wabbles  child- 
less and  alone.  That  night  Wabbles  put  the 
three  little  ones. to  bed  in  the  same  hemlock- 
tree,  and  then  flew  back  to  his  deserted  mate. 

Before  dark  I  looked  for  the  young  birds, 

and  found  them  on   a   twig   about   a   man's 

height  from  the  ground,  sitting  side  by  side 

and  cunningly  concealed  by  hemlock  spray. 

57 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

When  I  approached,  three  little  heads  turned 
and  six  bright  eyes  looked  on  me,  but  not 
with  fear.  I  suppose  Wabbles  had  told  them 
all  about  the  hermit,  and  they  knew  I  would 
not  harm  them. 

The  next  morning  Wabbles  returned,  and 
Mrs.  Wabbles  was  with  him.  She  at  once 
took  charge  of  her  babies,  and  tried  to  entice 
them  away.  But  Wabbles,  the  sly  rogue, 
hopped  into  the  dooryard,  and  I  heard  him 
calling,  "  Tsp,  tsp,"  and  the  little  fellows 
heard  him,  too,  and,  remembering  the  food, 
flew  to  him.  Mrs.  Wabbles  was  obliged  to 
give  in. 

Wabbles  is  not  wholly  unknown  to  noto- 
riety. Many  of  the  summer  residents  that 
visited  my  cabin  had  made  his  acquaintance, 
and  the  story  of  the  little  bird  that  would 
desert  the  fields  for  a  hermit-life  in  the  woods 
has  doubtless  often  been  told  in  many  a  dis- 
tant home. 

Before  the  birds  had  departed  in  migra- 
tion, Wabbles's  little  wife  had  become  con- 
tented and  happy  in  the  cabin  dooryard. 
58 


WABBLES 


She  was  of  a  confiding  nature,  and  in  a  re- 
markably short  time  would  take  food  from  my 
hand.  Wabbles  and  his  family  lingered  about 
the  cabin  until  the  thermometer  registered  ten 
above.  The  fifteenth  of  March  Wabbles  re- 
turned to  my  dooryard.  His  wife  and  family 
appeared  a  week  later. 

For  some  reason,  known  only  to  bird-life, 
the  male  birds  of  most  species  return  from 
the  south  about  a  week  before  the  females  and 
young  birds. 

When  the  nesting-season  approached  Wab- 
bles and  his  wife  located  their  family  in  a 
less  wooded  growth,  on  the  road  to  the  city. 
The  old  birds  returned  to  the  dooryard,  and 
Mrs.  Wabbles  made  a  nest  where  a  little  patch 
of  grass  had  sprung  up  between  the  ledges. 

Wabbles  and  I,  during  the  summer,  re- 
newed the  friendly  relations  that  had  existed 
when  he  led  the  life  of  a  bachelor.  He  would 
come  to  me  for  food  at  all  hours  of  the  day. 
When  I  gave  him  his  favorite  food,  cookie, 
he  would  reward  me  with  a  song.  He  would 
fly  to  a  limb  about  four  feet  above  my  head 
59 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 


and  sing  one  song,  and  then  fly  away  to  his 
mate.  Sometimes  I  could  coax  him  to  repeat 
the  song  by  talking  to  him  earnestly  and 
rapidly.  My  visitors  thought  that  the  song 
was  strange,  and  often  it  was  suggested  that 
it  was  on  account  of  the  nearness  of  the 
singer.  But  the  song  was  not  the  one  with 
which  they  were  familiar.  It  was  a  new  song, 
low,  sweet,  and  tender,  with  nothing  in  it 
to  remind  one  of  the  loud,  joyous  carol  heard 
in  the  springtime. 

Wabbles  called  me  at  daybreak  every  morn- 
ing. He  was  jealous  of  the  other  birds,  and 
drove  them  away,  when  he  thought  they  were 
too  friendly  with  me.  A  catbird  and  a  veery 
hopped  about  my  hammock  mornings,  and 
Wabbles  attacked  them  so  furiously  that  it 
made  me  wonder  why  they  did  not  keep  away 
for  good.  Wabbles  did  not  allow  other  birds 
to  eat  in  the  dooryard  until  he  had  satisfied 
his  appetite.  Visitors  asserted  that  he  was 
a  tyrant,  but  I  did  not  look  at  his  warlike 
actions  in  that  light.  He  thought  that  he 


60 


WABBLES 


owned  the  dooryard,  and  other  birds  were 
trespassers. 

Near  my  cabin  there  is  a  notice  posted  for- 
bidding trespass,  and  it  alludes  sarcastically 
to  "  wood-cutting  thieves."  This  sign  was  put 
up  because  sometimes  dead,  worthless  wood 
was  carried  away  from  the  lot.  Wabbles  is 
willing  that  the  birds  may  enjoy  the  things 
in  the  dooryard  after  he  is  satisfied,  but  the 
human  fellow  preferred  to  let  the  wood  rot  on 
the  ground. 

The  feathered  biped's  humanity  contrasts 
sharply  with  the  human  biped's  brutality. 

Mrs.  Wabbles  soon  had  four  little  mouths 
to  feed,  and  she  worked  early  and  late.  The 
heat  was  so  intense  that  every  little  while  she 
would  seek  the  shade,  and  rest  with  her  wings 
drooping  and  her  bill  open.  Notwithstanding 
the  strain  on  her  limited  strength,  she  never 
showed  impatience,  but  was  always  the  same 
confiding  little  bird. 

The  Wabbles  family  enjoyed  life  in  the 
woods.  Through  the  summer  and  fall  months, 
Wabbles  set  up  a  singing-school  and  trained 
61 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

his  boys  to  sing  the  mating-song  of  his 
species. 

Late  in  the  fall  death  entered  the  family 
circle.  A  boy  from  the  city  mistook  poor 
Mrs.  Wabbles  for  an  English  sparrow  and 
shot  her  to  death.  Wabbles  mourned  for  his 
little  wife,  and  he  was  not  the  only  mourner. 
I  had  become  attached  to  the  gentle  bird,  and 
I  was  grievously  pained  by  her  tragic  death. 

Wabbles  lost  his  joyous  manner.  He 
watched  over  his  motherless  babies  with  gentle 
care,  but  not  a  song  did  I  hear  after  the 
tragedy.  Later,  he  conducted  the  young 
birds  to  a  warmer  climate,  and  was  lost  to  me 
until  the  next  March. 

When  Wabbles  returned  in  the  spring  he 
was  alone,  and  his  children  did  not  appear 
later.  I  suppose  some  motherly  bird  had 
adopted  the  bereaved  family,  to  take  them 
into  the  fields  or  pastures. 

In  April,  Wabbles  deserted  me  for  three 

days,  then  returned  with  another  wife.     This 

was  an  old  bird,  probably  a  widow.     It  was 

evident  from  the  first  that  she  thought  Wab- 

62 


WABBLES 


bles's  first  wife  had  spoiled  him.  She  bossed 
him  around  in  grand  style.  I  tried  to  get 
acquainted  with  her,  but,  with  a  lordly  air, 
she  gave  me  to  understand  that  she  did  not 
associate  with  hermits.  After  two  days  she 
ordered  Wabbles  out  to  the  fields,  and  I  did 
not  see  him  again  till  October.  He  came  in 
twice  before  migration.  That  was  all.  Wab- 
bles, the  warrior,  was  henpecked. 

The  next  spring  Wabbles  returned  from 
the  South  early  in  March.  I  think  he  was 
glad  to  escape  from  his  wife,  but  three  weeks 
later  she  swooped  down  on  him,  and  packed 
him  off  to  the  pastures. 

For  eleven  years  Wabbles  has  lived  with 
his  second  wife.  Every  spring  he  comes  to 
the  cabin  for  a  long  visit,  but  I  seldom  see 
much  of  him  in  the  fall.  Once  I  did  not  see 
him  at  all,  and  reported  that  probably  he  was 
dead,  but  the  next  spring  he  turned  up  as 
usual. 

It  is  now  fourteen  years  since  I  removed 
the  shot  from  Wabbles's  wing.  He  does  not 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

grow  old  in  looks  and  is  yet  good  for  many 
years,  if  his  wife  does  not  worry  him  to  death. 

Dear  old  Wabbles.  He  has  blessed  me  with 
a  friendship  as  sincere  and  lasting  as  any  that 
can  spring  from  the  human  heart.  As  the 
years  go  by,  I  am  more  and  more  impressed 
with  the  little  bird's  individuality.  Long  ago 
he  proved  to  me  that  he  possessed  a  moral 
sense. 

When  Wabbles  finds  birds  in  the  dooryard 
he  threatens  them  for  a  short  time,  then  darts 
at  the  nearest,  and  the  feathers  fly.  After 
he  has  satisfied  his  appetite  he  will  let  the 
other  birds  return  to  glean  the  dooryard.  He 
does  not  want  to  deprive  them  of  food,  but 
insists  that  they  shall  await  his  pleasure. 
Sometimes  he  will  sing  while  the  birds  are 
eating.  He  firmly  believes  that  he  holds  a 
mortgage  on  the  dooryard,  or,  perhaps,  that 
he  is  a  joint  owner  with  me;  but  he  insists 
that  his  property  rights  must  be  respected. 

One  afternoon  I  found  a  wounded  chickadee 
in  the  dooryard.  Some  wretch  had  shot  away 
one  leg  and  had  injured  a  wing  besides.  I 
64 


WABBLES 


thought  Wabbles  would  nfake  short  work  of 
the  helpless  bird,  but  instead  he  hopped 
around  him  and  talked  to  him  in  a  low  tone. 
There  was  no  threat  in  his  notes  such  as  he 
uttered  when  angry.  Up  to  the  time  that 
Wabbles  left  in  migration  the  chickadee  was 
allowed  the  freedom  of  the  cabin  dooryard. 

When  Wabbles's  first  wife  was  alive,  he  re- 
turned one  spring  the  tenth  day  of  March, 
and  brought  with  him  a  male  linnet.  I  was 
surprised,  for  it  was  peculiar  that  a  linnet 
should  return  in  migration  three  weeks  before 
the  usual  time.  A  week  later  Mrs.  Wabbles 
returned,  and  with  her  was  the  mate  to  th* 
linnet.  This  incident  opened  up  a  wide  field 
for  reflection.  It  proved  that  two  species  of 
the  bird  family  could  communicate  ideas  to 
each  other. 

These  birds  must  have  met  in  the  South. 
In  the  course  of  bird  gossip  either  the  linnets 
or  sparrows  had  announced  that  the  summer 
home  was  on  Cape  Ann.  "  That  is  where  we 
live,"  is  the  glad  reply,  so  the  birds,  having 
come  from  the  same  locality,  associate  to- 
65 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

gether.  Wabbles  tells  them  about  the  hermit 
and  the  dooryard  crowded  with  food.  In  some 
way  he  induced  the  male  linnet  to  accompany 
him,  three  weeks  out  of  season,  with  the  un- 
derstanding that  Mrs.  Wabbles,  a  week  later, 
would  pilot  the  female  linnet  to  her  husband. 
It  must  be  remembered  that  linnets  do  not 
inhabit  the  woods.  Wabbles  gave  the  free- 
dom of  the  dooryard  to  the  linnets.  They 
were  invited  guests,  and  were  treated  as  such. 
It  all  goes  to  show  that  Wabbles  knows  what 
belongs  to  good  breeding  and  possesses  a  moral 


IV. 


BISMARCK,    THE    RED    SQUIRREL 

THE  red  squirrel,  or  chickaree,  leads  all  the 
wild  things  in  the  woodlands  of  Cape  Ann  for 
intelligence  and  the  ability  to  maintain  an 
existence  under  adverse  circumstances. 

His  life  during  the  spring  and  summer 
months  is  a  grand  hurrah,  but  in  the  fall  he 
sobers  down  and  plods  and  toils  in  his  har- 
vest-fields like  a  thrifty  farmer. 

Right  or  wrong,  it  is  a  fact  that  the  red 
squirrel  bears  a  disreputable  character.  He 
is  called  a  thief  because  he  takes  the  farmers' 
corn,  and  a  bloodthirsty  wretch  for  robbing 
birds'  nests.  From  my  experience  with  the 
chickaree  I  am  led  to  believe  that  he  is  not 
so  black  as  painted.  I  used  to  think  that 
he  spared  neither  eggs  nor  young,  but  sav- 
67 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

agely  robbed  every  bird's  nest  which  he 
chanced  to  find.  I  certainly  got  this  idea 
from  books,  for  I  cannot  recall  an  instance 
where  a  bird's  nest  was  robbed  by  a  red  squir- 
rel. 

For  years  I  thought  a  squirrel  was  seeking 
food  when  he  chased  the  birds  in  my  door- 
yard.  Now  my  eyes  are  open,  and  I  am 
heartily  ashamed  of  myself.  I  awoke  from 
my  trance  to  find  that  the  red  squirrel  was 
simply  chasing  the  birds  out  of  the  dooryard 
and  away  from  the  food,  which  he  claimed  as 
his  own. 

Twice  last  summer  I  saw  a  red  squirrel 
pounce  on  a  young  towhee-bunting,  but  both 
times  he  let  the  bird  go  without  the  loss  of 
a  feather.  It  was  evident  that  he  did  not  in- 
tend to  injure  the  bird,  but  merely  desired 
to  frighten  it  away.  The  intention  was  so 
evident  that  I  could  not  ignore  it,  and  it  led 
me  to  do  a  lot  of  thinking. 

I  carefully  examined  my  notes  for  proof  of 
the  squirrel's  guilt,  and  found  no  record 
against  him.  The  guilty  ones  were  the  hawk, 
68 


BISMARCK,    THE    RED    SQUIRREL 

the  owl,  the  snake,  the  stoat,  the  crow,  the  cat, 
the  irrepressible  boy,  and  the  white-footed 
mouse.  For  fifteen  years  birds  have  nested 
around  my  cabin  unmolested  by  the  red  squir- 
rel. 

It  was  always  a  mystery  to  me  why  the 
birds  were  not  afraid  of  the  red  squirrel.  Let 
a  hawk,  an  owl,  a  weasel,  a  cat,  a  snake,  or 
any  of  the  animals  known  to  prey  on  birds, 
enter  my  dooryard  while  birds  were  rearing 
their  young,  and  the  wildest  alarm  would  pre- 
vail so  long  as  the  intruder  was  in  sight.  The 
red  squirrel  can  come  and  go  without  a  protest, 
which  proves  that  the  birds  do  not  regard  him 
as  an  enemy. 

Whenever  I  have  detected  a  squirrel  investi- 
gating a  bird's  nest  it  has  turned  out  that 
curiosity  was  the  motive. 

A  pair  of  chickadees  nested  in  a  box  that 
I  had  placed  in  an  oak-tree,  and  a  squirrel 
that  spent  the  most  of  his  time  in  the  door- 
yard  made  it  a  duty  to  investigate  the  nest 
several  times  a  day.  He  did  not  harm  the 


69 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 


young  birds,  and  the  old  birds  did  not  fear 
him. 

While  I  was  watching  a  red-eyed  vireo's 
nest  last  season,  I  saw  a  red  squirrel  run  out 
to  the  nest,  stretch  his  full  length  on  the  limb 
(it  was  a  very  warm  day),  and  look  down  on 
to  the  young  birds  that  were  squirming  about 
in  their  confined  quarters.  I  counted  ninety- 
six  before  he  left,  and  I  did  not  begin  at 
first.  I  think  he  was  on  the  limb  fully  two 
minutes.  These  young  vireos  were  not  mo- 
lested, for  I  saw  them  leave  the  nest  when  full 
fledged. 

I  have  a  record  of  an  oven-bird  that  nested 
at  the  foot  of  a  pine-tree  which  contained  a 
red  squirrel's  nest.  Four  young  squirrels 
were  reared  in  a  leafy  nest  in  the  top  of  the 
pine,  and  three  young  oven-birds  in  a  domed 
nest  on  the  ground. 

My  experience  with  the  red  squirrel  has 
caused  me  to  change  my  mind,  and  hereafter 
I  shall  hold  him  innocent  until  he  is  proved 
guilty. 

The  red  squirrel  in  this  locality  is  about 
70 


BISMARCK,    THE    RED    SQUIRREL 


seven  and  a  half  inches  in  length,  measuring 
from  the  nose  to  the  base  of  the  tail.  The 
tail  is  about  six  and  a  half  inches  in  length, 
and  is  carried  in  a  number  of  ways  to  suit 
the  convenience  of  its  owner.  As  to  color,  it 
seems  as  if  there  are  two  species,  but  it  is  only 
the  difference  between  the  young  and  the  very 
old.  Young  squirrels  are  bright  red  on  the 
back  and  sides,  with  the  under  parts  usually 
a  pure  white.  Old  squirrels  are  red  along  the 
back  bone,  gray  on  the  sides,  and  a  dirty 
white  below.  Some  specimens  are  shot  that 
are  nearly  all  gray.  Gunners  claim  that  such 
squirrels  are  a  cross  between  the  red  and  the 
gray,  but  they  are  simply  old  red  squirrels. 

Dame  Nature  has  been  unusually  kind  to 
the  red  squirrel.  She  has  provided  him  with 
powerful  weapons  of  offence  and  defence. 
She  has  set  in  his  muscular  jaws  long,  cruel 
teeth,  which  are  whet  to  a  keen  edge  on  the 
hard-shelled  nuts.  She  has  conferred  upon 
him  claws  sharp  as  needles,  and  a  muscular 
system  which  seemingly  is  controlled  by  an 
electric  current.  There  is  a  wicked  wild  fire 
71 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

in  his  bright  eye  that  stamps  him  the  bravest 
wild  thing  of  the  forest.  He  will  fight  to  the 
death.  He  whips  his  great  cousin,  the  gray 
squirrel,  without  effort,  and  is  a  match  for 
the  large  stoat. 

When  pursued  by  a  dog  he  makes  a  dash 
for  the  nearest  tree,  which  he  mounts,  calling 
out  "  chickaree  "  as  soon  as  he  is  out  of  dan- 
ger. He  does  not,  like  the  gray  squirrel, 
seek  a  hiding-place  in  the  top  of  the  tree. 
No,  he  is  far  too  bold  to  hide  from  a  dog. 
He  stops  on  a  low  limb,  just  out  of  reach, 
and  fairly  boils  over  with  rage  and  fury.  He 
barks,  spits,  and  sputters ;  he  makes  furious 
rushes,  as  if  he  intended  to  come  right  down 
the  tree,  and  "  whip  that  dog."  He  violently 
jerks  his  tail,  and  pounds  the  limb  with  his 
hind  feet,  a  picture  of  impudent,  fiery  energy. 

Every  movement  of  this  little  squirrel  is 
accomplished  without  apparent  muscular  en- 
ergy. He  seems  to  float  up  a  tree.  If  you 
are  near  enough  you  may  hear  the  pricking 
of  his  claws  on  the  bark,  but  you  cannot  de- 
tect a  muscular  effort.  He  flashes  along  the 
72 


BISMARCK,   THE   RED    SQUIRREL 


limbs  in  some  mysterious  way,  never  stopping, 
like  the  gray  squirrel,  to  measure  distances 
before  a  leap.  If  he  misses  and  falls,  he  usu- 
ally catches  by  a  claw  to  some  twig,  thus 
saving  himself.  If  he  falls  to  the  ground, 
it  does  not  harm  or  disconcert  him.  He  is 
up  the  tree  in  a  jiffy,  spitefully  saying  things 
that  sound  to  the  listener  very  much  like 
swearing. 

From  the  middle  of  April  to  the  first  of 
September  the  male  squirrel  leads  a  jolly, 
rollicking  life.  He  is  as  restless  and  noisy 
as  a  schoolboy,  and  as  full  of  fun.  He  will 
hang  head  down,  holding  on  by  his  hind 
claws,  just  for  the  fun  of  the  thing.  In  the 
tree-tops  he  is  king.  He  rules  the  blue  jays 
and  crows,  and  races  them  out  of  the  pine-trees 
whenever  he  feels  disposed.  He  hazes  the 
gray  squirrel,  but  does  not  unsex  him  as  al- 
leged. This  silly  tale  is  on  a  par  with  snakes' 
stingers  and  hoop  snakes.  Any  one  that  has 
had  the  opportunity  to  observe  squirrels  the 
year  round,  knows  that  chipmunks,  red  squir- 
rels, and  gray  squirrels  show  the  same  appear- 
73 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

ance  of  being  unsexed,  except  in  the  mating 
season. 

The  gray  is  no  match  for  the  red  in  a  tree- 
top  in  a  trial  of  speed.  He  usually  keeps  to 
the  ground,  where  his  long  leaps  give  him  the 
advantage  over  his  fiery  little  foe.  Many  a 
sprinting  match  of  this  kind  takes  place  in 
my  dooryard.  If  a  red  surprises  a  gray 
squirrel  stealing  food,  he  sounds  his  war-cry, 
and  in  a  mad  rush  is  on  to  the  gray  before 
he  can  make  off  with  the  bit  of  food  which 
he  has  appropriated.  The  gray,  finding  that 
he  is  hard  pressed,  runs  around  the  cabin  with 
the  red  hot  at  his  heels.  Round  and  round 
they  go,  the  gray  silent,  the  red  yelling  like 
a  little  demon.  When  the  gray  has  had 
several  narrow  escapes,  he  drops  the  food 
and  retreats  unmolested.  The  red  picks  up 
the  food  and  takes  it  to  a  favorite  limb,  where 
he  devours  it,  talking  to  himself,  meanwhile, 
about  "that  gray  thief." 

In  all  my  years  of  observation,  once  only 
have  I  known  a  gray  squirrel  to  fight  a  red.  I 
think  it  was  hunger  and  desperation  that  in- 
74 


MANY    A    SPRINTING    MATCH    OF    THIS  KIND  TAKES  PLACE 
IN    MY    DOOR  YARD." 


BISMARCK,   THE    RED    SQUIRREL 


duced  the  gray  to  fight.  The  gray  was  an  old 
male,  certainly  three  times  as  large  as  the  red. 
The  latter  was  an  old  male,  and  had  held  the 
dooryard  for  several  years  against  all  comers. 
He  was  a  sagacious,  grizzled  old  warrior,  and 
I  named  him  Bismarck.  The  fight  took  place 
in  my  dooryard.  It  was  a  bloody  battle  for 
bread  on  a  cold,  drizzly  day  in  midwinter. 
The  gray  was  whipped  inside  of  three  min- 
utes. The  snow  was  crimsoned  with  his  blood, 
and  when  he  fled  he  left  a  bloody  trail  behind. 
At  no  time  was  there  a  ghost  of  a  chance  for 
him  to  win.  The  muscular  energy  of  the 
red  was  astounding.  His  movements  were  too 
quick  for  the  eye.  While  the  fight  lasted,  all 
I  could  see  was  a  bounding  mass  of  red  and 
gray.  The  red  squirrel  did  not  appear  to  be 
severely  wounded,  anyway  he  remained  out 
in  the  cold  and  rain  to  lick  his  wounds.  Per- 
haps it  was  squirrel  surgery  to  prefer  the 
cold  to  a  warm  nest. 

From  my  observations  I  find  that  the  reds 
seldom  chase  the  grays,  unless  the  latter  enter 


75 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 


territory  which  the  reds  claim  the  right  to 
hold  and  protect. 

Four-footed  wild  animals,  with  a  few  excep- 
tions, own  farms,  gardens,  or  house-lots.  That 
is,  they  hold  exclusive  control  over  a  limited 
area  around  their  nesting  sites.  You  seldom 
see  two  woodchuck  holes  near  each  other,  or 
two  rabbit  burrows.  The  red  squirrel  runs 
a  fruit  farm.  He  owns  and  controls  trees 
that  bear  nuts  or  cones,  and  other  reds  respect 
his  rights,  and  do  not  invade  his  territory 
unless  there  is  a  famine.  A  red  squirrel  will 
fight  savagely  for  his  home  and  property, 
and  usually  drives  all  intruders  from  his 
domain. 

Young  squirrels  remain  with  their  parents 
through  the  first  winter,  but  in  April  the 
female  turns  the  family  over  to  the  male,  and 
makes  another  nest  of  moss,  leaves,  and  dry 
grass  in  the  top  of  a  tall  pine  or  hemlock-tree. 
While  she  is  engaged  by  new  duties,  the  male 
looks  after  the  young  squirrels  that  are  now 
full  grown.  He  finishes  their  education,  and 
locates  the  young  males  on  territory  which 
76 


BISMARCK,    THE    RED    SQUIRREL 

they  ever  after  hold.  The  young  females, 
later  on,  are  mated,  and  remove  to  the  locality 
inhabited  by  their  mates.  Whether  the  par- 
ents have  anything  to  do  in  selecting  sons-in- 
law  is  beyond  my  knowledge.  I  have  known 
an  old  male  to  fly  into  a  passion  when  a  smart 
young  red  tried  to  flirt  with  his  daughter. 
The  flirtation  was  cut  short  by  the  angry 
father,  who  run  the  young  dandy  off  his  ter- 
ritory. Kicked  him  out-of-doors,  so  to  speak. 
Another  young  red  that  courted  the  daughter 
was  tolerated,  if  not  welcomed,  by  the  father. 
He  was  the  choice  of  the  old  fellow  beyond 
doubt,  but  I  do  not  know  how  the  young  lady 
decided  the  matter.  Perhaps  she  eloped  with 
the  smart  young  red. 

Bismarck,  the  grizzled  old  warrior,  held 
my  dooryard  for  several  years.  One  winter, 
when  there  was  .a  famine  in  the  land  because 
the  nut  crop  had  failed,  a  muscular  young 
red  thought  he  could  drive  Bismarck  away. 
A  fierce  battle  was  the  consequence,  and  Bis- 
marck killed  his  antagonist,  but  was  disfigured 
for  life  by  the  loss  of  the  end  of  his  tail. 
77 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

While  Bismarck  reigned,  the  only  squirrel 
that  gained  a  foothold  in  the  dooryard  with- 
out his  consent  was  his  wife.  He  chased  her 
away  time  after  time,  but  like  some  human 
wives,  she  persisted,  and  won  the  day.  Bis- 
marck gave  in  when,  instead  of  running  away, 
his  wife  adopted  the  plan  of  running  spirally 
up  and  down  the  tree-trunks.  Mrs.  Bis- 
marck's favorite  tree  was  a  large  hemlock, 
which  was  about  eighteen  inches  in  diameter. 
The  trunk  of  the  tree  was  very  short,  not 
over  eight  feet  in  length  from  the  ground  to 
the  lower  limbs.  The  squirrels  made  two  turns 
in  either  going  up  or  down  the  tree,  and  their 
speed  was  too  swift  for  the  human  eye.  A 
brown  band  seemed  for  a  moment  wound  about 
the  tree,  shifting  as  the  squirrels  ascended  or 
descended.  It  was  two  weeks  before  Bismarck 
would  allow  his  mate  to  remain  in  the  door- 
yard.  When  peace  was  declared  the  two 
would  eat  side  by  side,  but  with  Bismarck 
always  scolding  and  growling,  while  his  wife 
discreetly  remained  silent. 

Bismarck  was  my  schoolmaster.  He  taught 
78 


BISMARCK,    THE    RED    SQUIRREL 


me  that  squirrels  think,  plan,  and  reason  just 
as  human  beings  do.  Every  time  I  threw  to 
him  a  nut  or  bit  of  bread,  I  would  see  him  do 
the  thinking  act.  He  would  take  the  food 
to  a  boulder,  where  he  would  stop,  hold  up  one 
foot  ready  to  start  again,  and  think  out  a 
good  hiding-place.  When  he  had  thought 
out  a  spot,  he  would  run  directly  to  it  and 
conceal  the  food  under  leaves  or  pine-needles, 
and  return  to  the  dooryard  for  more.  No  two 
nuts  or  bits  of  bread  were  concealed  in  the 
same  place.  Several  times  I  experimented  to 
find  out  how  many  trips  Bismarck  would  make. 
The  greatest  number  was  fifty-one.  While 
the  experiment  was  going  on,  I  noted  each 
hiding-place,  as  well  as  I  could,  and  after- 
ward saw  the  squirrel  go  to  many.  He  cer- 
tainly remembered  each  spot,  and  his  keen 
scent  did  the  rest. 

Bismarck  was  a  thrifty  squirrel.  He  did 
not  disturb  his  hidden  store  while  the  food 
held  out  in  the  dooryard.  He  would  call 
around  early  in  the  morning,  and  if  he  found 
me  eating  breakfast  under  the  trees,  he  would 
79 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 


run  to  a  limb  just  over  my  head  and  look  down 
in  a  cute  way  that  meant  "  breakfast  for  two." 
If  I  did  not  respond  he  would  probably  say 
to  himself,  "  The  hermit  don't  mean  to  feed  me 
to-day.  I  must  fall  back  on  the  food  that  I 
hid  away  yesterday.  Let  me  see,  that  first 
nut  is  under  the  edge  of  a  boulder  just  back 
of  the  cabin."  Off  he  goes  straight  to  the 
spot.  He  noses  out  the  nut,  which  he  eats  on 
the  limb  over  my  head,  scattering  the  bits  of 
shell  on  to  the  breakfast-table.  He  is  very 
sociable  while  eating,  for  he  stops  now  and 
then  to  say  something  to  me.  I  do  not  under- 
stand his  exact  language,  but  I  know  by  the 
tone  that  he  means  to  be  friendly. 

Bismarck  did  not  always  hide  bread  beneath 
pine-needles  or  leaves.  At  a  certain  season 
of  the  year  the  trees  about  my  cabin  were  made 
into  storehouses.  This  season  was  governed 
by  the  blue  jays.  When  they  were  nesting 
they  did  not  come  to  the  cabin  and  Bismarck 
could  store  food  in  the  trees  without  fear  of 
being  robbed. 

My  attention  was  called  early  to  the  fact 
80 


BISMARCK,    THE    RED    SQUIRREL 


that  a  gale  of  wind  did  not  dislodge  the  pieces 
of  bread  which  the  squirrel  had  stored  on  the 
limbs  of  a  hemlock-tree.  I  found  that  each 
piece  was  held  in  place  by  a  small  twig.  Scores 
of  times  afterward  I  saw  Bismarck  lift  up  a 
twig  with  his  hands  and  then  push  the  piece 
of  bread  with  his  nose  to  the  junction  of  twig 
and  limb.  Of  course  the  natural  spring  of  the 
twig  held  the  bread  in  place. 

Bismarck  always  stored  mushrooms  in  the 
trees,  for  he  knew  that  the  blue  jays  did  not 
eat  such  food.  He  would  drop  the  stem  of  the 
mushroom  between  the  prongs  of  a  forked 
limb,  if  there  was  cap  enough  left  to  hold  the 
same  in  place,  otherwise  he  treated  it  just  as 
he  would  a  piece  of  bread. 

How  Bismarck  acquired  a  knowledge  of  the 
edible  mushrooms  is  a  mystery  beyond  my 
powers.  Doubtless,  when  he  attended  the 
Chickaree  College,  he  studied  natural  history 
instead  of  the  dead  languages.  He  knew  how 
to  harvest  mushrooms.  He  gathered  them 
soon  after  they  appeared  above  the  ground. 
Gathered  thus,  they  would  keep  several  days, 
81 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 


while  a  few  hours'  growth  would  spoil  them 
if  left  in  the  ground. 

Bismarck  knew  how  to  eat  mushrooms.  He 
did  not  begin  on  the  freshly  gathered  ones ; 
he  knew  they  would  keep,  and  he  selected  those 
that  would  decay  shortly.  Human  beings  eat 
the  specked  apples  from  motives  of  economy, 
and  the  same  impulse  controls  the  squirrel. 

In  the  woods  about  my  cabin  grow  many 
varieties  of  the  poisonous  mushrooms.  One 
deadly  variety  —  the  "  Destroying  Angel  " 
—  possesses  a  form  most  pleasing  to  the  eye. 
Its  symmetrical  shape  and  pearly  white  color 
give  it  a  look  of  innocence  that  has  lured  many 
a  human  being  to  an  early  grave.  I  have  never 
seen  a  tooth-mark  by  a  squirrel,  mouse,  or  mole 
in  one  of  these  deadly  mushrooms,  which  goes 
to  prove  that  the  wild  things  know  more  than 
some  human  beings. 

A  few  years  ago,  while  out  on  a  walk  with 
the  Appalachian  Mountain  Club,  I  told  a  pro- 
fessor, who  was  an  expert  on  mushrooms,  that 
I  used  the  mushrooms  which  were  approved  by 
the  squirrels,  and  no  others.  He  said  that  I 
82 


BISMARCK,    THE    RED    SQUIRREL 


was  risking  my  life,  for  he  claimed  that  squir- 
rels could  eat  poisonous  varieties  that  might 
kill  human  beings.  I  thought  that  the  profes- 
sor knew  more  about  mushrooms  than  he  did 
about  squirrels,  so  his  warning  was  wasted  on 
me.  Up  to  date  I  have  found  the  squirrels  all 
right,  and  I  feel  no  fear  when  eating  what 
they  eat. 

For  years  I  attended  a  squirrels'  school,  and 
Bismarck  was  the  schoolmaster.  He  taught 
me  many  things  relating  to  squirrel  life. 
Much  of  the  knowledge  acquired  was  wholly 
unknown  to  me  before. 

When  Bismarck  first  introduced  himself  to 
me  I  think  he  was  an  old  bachelor  or  a 
widower.  Three  years  later  he  excavated  a 
storehouse  in  a  bank,  beneath  a  boulder,  and 
made  a  sleeping-nest  in  a  pine-tree,  both  in 
the  dooryard.  The  storehouse  was  used  but 
little  after  the  first  winter.  The  next  spring 
he  took  to  himself  a  mate,  but  did  not  intro- 
duce her  to  the  dooryard.  Some  distance 
from  the  cabin,  in  a  swamp,  Bismarck's  mate 
made  a  neat  little  nest  in  a  hemlock-tree. 
83 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 


Here  she  reared  two  baby  squirrels.  Bismarck 
did  not  take  much  interest  in  his  family 
through  the  summer.  He  spent  most  of  the 
time  in  the  dooryard,  sleeping  in  his  own  nest 
by  night.  By  day  his  time  was  occupied  in 
fighting  the  crows,  and  in  driving  squirrels 
and  birds  from  the  dooryard. 

There  was  always  a  good  lot  of  food  for 
Bismarck  to  choose  from,  and  I  thought  he 
would  give  up  hard  work  and  lead  a  life  of 
ease.  But  I  did  not  know  the  thrifty  ways 
of  the  red  squirrel.  When  the  harvest  season 
for  hazelnuts  drew  near,  Bismarck  buckled 
down  to  hard  work.  He  began  his  new  life 
by  calling  often  on  his  family  in  the  hemlock- 
tree.  One  day  I  found  Bismarck  and  his  wife 
digging  beneath  a  pine-tree  that  grew  on  the 
high  land  just  out  of  the  swamp.  They 
brought  out  a  great  quantity  of  pine  rootlets 
during  the  next  two  days.  There  was  not 
much  soil,  which  indicated  that  the  squirrels 
had  discovered  a  natural  cavity,  partly  filled 
with  pine  rootlets.  The  third  day,  about  four 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  the  work  stopped. 
84 


'THE    WINTER    BTOEKHODSB    WAS    COMPLETED 


BISMARCK,    THE    RED    SQUIRREL 


Mrs.  Bismarck  ran  to  a  pine-root,  sat  up 
straight,  folded  her  hands,  and  said  some- 
thing. Mr.  Bismarck  ran  to  her  side,  folded 
his  hands,  and  made  a  reply.  Both  squirrels 
looked  toward  the  hole  beneath  the  tree  by 
turning  half-way  round.  Then  they  looked 
at  each  other,  and  Mrs.  Bismarck  ran  into 
the  hole,  and  immediately  appeared  and  said 
something  that  sounded  very  much  like  "  It  is 
well."  Then  both  squirrels  scampered  away. 
The  winter  storehouse  was  completed. 

When  the  hazelnuts  were  ripe  Bismarck 
and  his  mate  began  to  fill  the  storehouse.  Bis- 
marck gathered  the  hazelnuts  about  the  cabin, 
while  his  mate  gathered  those  around  the 
home  nest.  Bismarck  did  a  lot  of  running, 
for  he  carried  but  one  nut  at  a  time.  He 
always  worked  under  high  pressure,  running 
to  and  fro  at  the  top  of  his  speed. 

I  noticed  that  he  left  many  nuts  on  the 
bushes,  but  when  I  investigated  I  found  a 
worm  in  each  nut  —  a  good  reason  for  reject- 
ing them ;  but  as  the  husks  seemed  perfect, 
ho\v  did  Bismarck  know  the  worms  were  there  ? 
85 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

I  think  his  keen  scent  was  the  secret.  By  the 
sense  of  smell  he  could  tell  a  wormy  from  a 
sound  nut.  So  could  I  after  the  nut  was 
smashed,  but  not  before. 

After  the  hazelnuts,  beechnuts  were  gath- 
ered. But  right  here  competition  was  too 
great  for  the  squirrels.  The  blue  jays  haunted 
the  beech  groves,  and  could  load  up  with  from 
twelve  to  eighteen  nuts,  then  could  use  their 
wings  against  the  squirrels'  legs,  so  the  latter 
were  usually  short  on  beechnuts. 

The  acorn  followed  the  beechnut  crop,  and 
as  the  woods  of  Cape  Ann  are  made  up  mostly 
of  oak-trees,  there  were  usually  nuts  enough 
for  Bismarck's  family  and  to  spare. 

Besides  being  a  hard  worker,  Bismarck 
proved  to  me,  in  many  ways,  that  he  was 
quick-witted  and  resourceful.  A  sweet  acorn- 
tree  near  my  cabin  was  loaded  with  nuts. 
Beneath  the  h'mbs  on  the  south  side  was  a 
carpet  of  pine-needles,  while  under  the  limbs 
on  the  north  side  grew  a  dense  mass  of  bram- 
bles and  catbriers.  Bismarck  did  not  drop 
a  nut  into  the  mass  of  briers,  but  carried 


BISMARCK,    THE    RED    SQUIRREL 


each  nut  —  one  at  a  time  —  to  the  clear  side 
before  dropping  it.  Could  human  intelligence 
do  more? 

When  Bismarck  and  his  mate  had  stowed 
away  food  enough  for  winter,  they  made  a 
winter  nest  in  the  pine-tree  that  grew  above 
the  storehouse.  In  the  new  nest  the  whole 
family  passed  the  winter  after  the  manner 
of  red  squirrels. 

The  two  baby  squirrels  for  the  most  of  the 
harvest-time  remained  in  the  nest  or  on  the 
hemlock-tree  in  which  the  nest  was  located. 
Now  and  then  they  followed  the  mother  to 
a  nut-tree,  but  were  so  noisy  that  I  imagine 
the  fear  of  enemies  caused  the  discreet  mother 
to  drive  them  home. 

When  the  family  storehouse  was  well  filled, 
Bismarck  stored  a  few  nuts  in  the  hole  at  the 
cabin.  I  think  he  would  have  stored  more  if 
it  had  not  been  for  the  alert  wood-mice.  He 
hid  a  great  many  nuts  around  boulders  and 
trees.  These  nuts  were  used  in  the  winter, 
and  often  lasted  until  late  in  the  spring.  In 
the  spring,  when  the  nuts  started  to  grow, 
87 


A    HERMIT'S* WILD    FRIENDS 


Bismarck  dug  them  up,  bit  off  the  sprouts, 
and  buried  them  again. 

When  the  nut  crop  is  a  failure,  the  squir- 
rels are  face  to  face  with  a  famine.  Long 
before  the  nut  season  approaches  the  squir- 
rels know  that  they  must  depend  on  other 
food  for  the  winter's  supply.  During  one 
year  of  failure  I  carefully  noted  how  Bis- 
marck conducted  himself,  knowing  that  he 
would  teach  me  how  the  red  squirrel  provides 
food  when  his  main  supply  is  cut  off.  When 
September  warned  the  squirrels  that  the  sea- 
son for  providing  food  for  winter  was  on, 
Bismarck  turned  his  attention  to  the  corn  in 
the  dooryard.  Years  before  he  had  stored 
corn,  when  he  was  obliged  to  compete  with 
the  blue  jays  and  chipmunks.  The  latter  could 
carry  away  from  fourteen  to  nineteen  grains, 
while  Bismarck's  load  was  but  two  grains.  He 
soon  evened  things  up  by  hiding  corn  in  the 
dooryard,  or  near  it.  When  the  supply  was 
exhausted,  and  the  blue  jays  and  chipmunks 
had  disappeared,  Bismarck  would  dig  up  his 
corn  and  carry  it  home.  It  was  sharp  prac- 
88 


BISMARCK,    THE    RED    SQUIRREL 


tice,  but  the  squirrel  was  justified,  when  we 
consider  the  circumstances.  For  several  years 
prior  to  the  famine,  Bismarck  had  dropped 
the  habit  of  storing  corn,  and  only  gnawed 
out  the  germ,  leaving  the  mutilated  grain  for 
the  blue  jays  and  chipmunks.  Now  Bismarck 
undertook  to  store  corn,  hiding  it  as  of  old, 
but  I  vetoed  the  act,  by  withholding  the  corn. 
The  squirrel  then  turned  his  attention  to  a 
black  cherry-tree,  and  with  the  aid  of  a  chip- 
munk, soon  stripped  it  of  fruit.  I  think  the 
chipmunk  gathered  the  fruit  for  the  stone. 
He  gathered  an  enormous  quantity,  and  surely 
could  not  make  use  of  the  soft  part.  The  red 
squirrel  may  have  gathered  for  immediate  use 
and  also  for  a  winter  supply. 

Bismarck's  next  move  was  a  great  surprise. 
I  caught  him  carrying  bones  to  his  storehouse. 

One  summer  I  saw  Bismarck  sitting  on  a 
stone  wall,  apparently  eating  a  bone.  After 
he  got  through  he  hid  the  bone  in  the  wall. 
I  found  that  the  bone  was  old  and  partly  de- 
cayed. I  smashed  up  similar  bones,  and  Bis- 
marck seemed  to  relish  a  meal  three  or  four 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 


times  a  week,  but  I  never  knew  him  to  store 
bones  for  winter  use  before.  His  next  move 
was  to  attack  the  pine-cones.  These  were 
gathered  while  quite  green.  They  were  left 
on  the  ground  three  or  four  days  and  then 
carried,  whole,  to  the  family  storehouse  — 
a  great  quantity  was  stored  under  stumps, 
trees,  and  boulders.  The  hemlock-cones  were 
gathered  later,  but  were  husked  at  the  foot 
of  the  tree  on  which  they  grew. 

During  the  following  winter  Bismarck 
looked  to  me  for  food.  A  loaf  of  bread  was 
wired  to  a  post  near  the  cabin  door,  from 
which  he  could  eat,  while  he  could  not  carry 
it  away.  One  cold,  rainy  day,  he  sat  by  the 
bread  without  eating,  and  whimpered  like  a 
little  child.  He  was  telling  me  in  squirrel 
language  that  it  was  cold,  rainy,  and  almost 
night,  and  that  I  ought  to  give  him  some 
bread  to  take  home  to  his  family.  I  under- 
stood his  appeal,  and  passed  him  a  biscuit. 
He  scampered  away  chuckling  over  his  good 
luck.  After  that,  fair  or  foul,  all  through 
the  winter  days,  he  would  beg  for  bread  to 
90 


BISMARCK,    THE    RED    SQUIRREL 

take  home,  and  always  chuckled  when  he  got 
it.  Perhaps  he  was  laughing  at  me  for  being 
an  easy  mark,  or  it  may  have  been  squirrel 
for  "  I  thank  you  a  thousand  times."  How- 
ever that  may  be,  he  was  welcome,  for  I 
thought  of  the  baby  squirrels  starving  along 
on  a  cone-seed  diet. 

Bismarck  would  eat  all  kinds  of  meat  — 
even  fat  pork  ——  but  he  preferred  cooked  meat 
to  raw.  While  the  famine  was  on  he  turned 
his  attention  to  many  kinds  of  food  found  in 
the  woods.  I  made  a  record  of  each  variety, 
and  religiously  tasted  of  everything  he  used. 
Frozen  barberries  and  chokeberries  were  pre- 
ferred to  all  others.  I  found  the  barberries 
had  lost  much  of  their  usual  sourness;  the 
chokeberries  were  sweet  and  palatable.  While 
the  former  remained  on  the  bushes  through 
the  winter,  the  latter  were  soon  exhausted,  for 
they  were  food  for  quail,  grouse,  blue  jays, 
and  mice.  The  berries  of  the  greenbrier,  stag- 
horn  sumach,  and  rosehips  were  used  spar- 
ingly. The  greenbrier  berries  had  a  sweetish 
taste;  the  staghorn  sumachs  were  sour  and 
91 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

puckery,  while  the  rosehips  had  a  pleasant 
flavor  at  first,  ending  in  a  most  disagreeable 
bitter.  Many  mushrooms  were  caught  by  an 
early  frost,  and  remained  frozen  through  the 
winter.  These  were  food  for  Bismarck.  He 
would  gnaw  out  the  under  part,  or  gills,  re- 
jecting the  rest.  I  tasted  the  food,  but  can- 
not say  that  I  care  for  frozen  mushroom. 

In  the  spring  pussy-willow  buds  formed  a 
part  of  Bismarck's  food.  I  found  the  buds 
nearly  tasteless,  but  they  crunched  between 
the  teeth  like  a  crisp  cucumber.  As  spring 
advanced,  creeping  wintergreen  and  par- 
tridge-berries appeared  here  and  there  where 
the  sun  had  melted  the  snow,  and  Bismarck 
greedily  devoured  the  bright  red  berries. 
Later  berries  formed  the  greater  part  of  his 
food  until  the  hazelnuts  were  ripe.  Wild 
apple-trees  abound  on  Cape  Ann,  and  Bis- 
marck attacked  the  fruit  early  in  the  fall. 
He  destroyed  great  quantities  for  the  seed, 
which  was  the  only  part  stored  for  winter 
use.  However,  he  seemed  to  relish  an  apple, 
if  it  was  not  too  sour,  and  all  through  the 
92 


BISMARCK,    THE    RED    SQUIRREL 

winter  he  would  eat  a  Baldwin  apple,  even 
to  the  seeds,  at  one  sitting. 

The  history  of  Bismarck  through  a  year 
of  famine  is  the  history  of  other  red  squirrels 
on  Cape  Ann.  It  is  evident  that  the  red  squir- 
rel is  famine  proof.  If  the  nut  crop  is  a 
failure,  chickaree  turns  his  attention  to  other 
food  sources,  and  by  perseverance  and  hard 
work  is  able  to  keep  the  wolf  from  the  door. 

For  years  Bismarck  and  the  blue  jays  have 
matched  wits.  After  nesting,  the  blue  jays 
would  flock  to  .the  cabin  and  impudently  ap- 
propriate all  the  food  found  in  the  trees.  Bis- 
marck seemed  to  know  that  it  was  useless  to 
store  food  longer  in  this  way,  so  he  would 
bury  it  beneath  the  pine-needles.  The  jays 
were  soon  on  to  this  trick.  When  I  threw  a 
piece  of  bread  to  the  squirrel  he  would  start 
at  once  to  hide  it,  while  the  jays  would  follow 
him,  keeping  in  the  trees,  just  out  of  reach. 
The  moment  he  left,  the  jays  would  fly  down, 
dig  out  the  bread  and  carry  it  away.  It  often 
happened  that  Bismarck  would  fool  the  rob- 
bers by  pretending  to  bury  the  bread.  He 
93 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 


would  dig  a  hole,  cover  it  over,  pat  down  the 
pine-needles,  but  would  run  away  with  the 
bread  in  his  mouth.  While  the  jays  were 
scratching  the  pine-needles  right  and  left,  in 
a  useless  search,  Bismarck  would  hide  the  bit 
of  bread,  and  return  to  the  dooryard  for 
more.  He  was  not  so  particular  if  the  food 
was  wheat  bread,  but  if  it  was  his  favorite 
food  —  doughnut  —  the  jays  were  fooled 
every  time. 

Every  spring  Bismarck  taps  the  trees 
around  the  cabin.  He  begins  on  the  maples 
and  ends  later  on  the  birches.  If  the  tree  is 
small,  he  taps  the  trunk ;  if  large,  he  works 
on  the  limbs.  He  gnaws  through  the  bark 
and  into  the  wood,  then  clings  to  the  limb  or 
trunk,  below  the  wound,  while  he  laps  the 
sweet  sap.  If  there  is  a  hollow  in  the  bark 
into  which  the  sap  flows,  Bismarck  is  sure  to 
find  it. 

Did  the  red  squirrel  learn  how  to  tap  trees 
from  the  American  Indian,  or  did  the  Indian 
learn  from  the  squirrel? 

The  habits  of  the  red  squirrel  are  rapidly 
94 


BISMARCK,    THE    RED    SQUIRREL 


changing  in  this  locality  on  account  of  a 
foolish  State  law.  The  story  is  quickly  told. 
Ward  8  (city  of  Gloucester),  where  my  cabin 
is  located,  contains  over  eleven  thousand 
square  acres.  Its  area  is  greater  than  that 
of  the  other  seven  wards  combined.  The  bulk 
of  the  territory  of  Ward  8  is  made  up  of 
woodland  and  shrubland,  the  city  proper 
being  in  the  other  seven  wards.  Ward  8 
contains  the  delightful  summer  resort  known 
as  Magnolia.  This  resort  derives  its  name 
from  Magnolia  Swamp,  the  only  spot  in  New 
England  where  magnolia  glauca  is  found  in 
a  wild  state.  The  famous  Coffin's  Beach  is 
also  in  this  ward. 

The  General  Court  four  years  ago  placed 
a  close  time  of  five  years  on  small  game  in 
the  territory  east  of  Ward  8.  This  protects 
the  seven  wards  of  the  city  and  the  town  of 
Rockport.  Two  years  ago  the  town  of 
Essex,  which  joins  Ward  8  on  the  west,  was 
protected,  so  that  the  gunners  from  a  popu- 
lation of  about  forty  thousand  are  turned 
loose  in  Ward  8.  The  extermination  of  nearly 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

all  the  game,  and  of  great  numbers  of  song- 
birds, has  been  the  result  of  this  peculiar 
legislation. 

All  the  wild  things  are  desperately  wild. 
The  red  squirrel  if  he  hears  the  report  of  a 
gun  instantly  rushes  to  a  hiding-place.  Well 


INDIGO  -  BIRD. 


he  knows  the  deadly  meaning  of  the  report. 
He  has  turned  day  into  night,  and  now  har- 
vests his  nut  crop  in  the  night-time.  I  sleep 
in  the  open  air,  and  during  the  harvest  season 
I  listen  for  hours  to  the  sound  of  dropping 
nuts  which  the  industrious  but  wary  squirrels 
i-,  .....  .  96 


BISMARCK,    THE    RED    SQUIRREL 

are   cutting   from   the   oak-trees   around   my 
cabin. 

Bismarck  is  still  in  the  land  of  the  living, 
although  ten  years  have  passed  since  he  first 
introduced  himself,  and  requested  me  to 
book  him  for  table  board.  He  has  cost  me 
many  dollars,  while  he  has  not  paid  a  cent 
in  the  coin  of  the  realm.  However,  I  owe  him 
for  teaching  and  am  ready  to  balance  the 
books  and  exchange  receipts. 


OVEN  -  BIRD. 


I  know  that  my  position  in  relation  to  the 
red  squirrel's  destruction  of  song-birds  will 
be  sharply  criticized  by  those  who  believe  in 
the  squirrel's  total  depravity.  But  the  truth 
is  that  I  describe  wild  life  just  as  I  find  it, 
not  as  some  books  say  I  ought  to  find  it.  If 
97 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

the  red  squirrel  was  as  destructive  as  reported, 
there  would  not  be  a  young  bird  reared  around 
my  cabin.  My  notes  show  that  last  year  the 
following  named  birds  nested  near  my  cabin, 
and  probably  every  nest  was  known  and  vis- 
ited by  the  red  squirrel: 

Number  of  nests. 

Chestnut-sided  warbler        .         .  3 

Black -throated  green  warbler      .  1 

Oven-bird 2 

Vireo 4 

Canada  fly-catching  warbler        .  1 

Robin 2 

Towhee-bunting          ...  2 

Catbird 1 

Wilson's  thrush .         ...  2 

Indigo-bird          ....  1 

Total       .         .         .         .         .19 
A  ruffed   grouse  nest  was  looted  by   the 
crows  when  it  contained  but  four  eggs,  after 
which    the   bird    resorted    to    a    swamp,    and 
reared  a  brood. 

Several  of  the  nests  named  were  destroyed, 
but  none  by  the  squirrel.  In  the  light  of  my 
observations  I  cannot  consistently  denounce 
the  red  squirrel. 

98 


BLACK -TIIHOATKI)    GKEEN    WARBLER. 


V. 
CHANGES     IN     HERMIT  -  LIFE 

FOR  several  years  I  had  slept  in  a  hammock 
without  a  roof  to  keep  off  the  night  air.  I 
had  found  this  method  inconvenient  on  ac- 
count of  stormy  nights,  when  I  was  obliged 
to  seek  the  shelter  of  the  cabin.  I  overcame 
the  difficulty  by  putting  a  tent  roof  over  my 
hammock.  The  sides  and  ends  were  open  so 
that  I  was  practically  exposed  to  the  night 
air.  The  tent  roof  protected  me  on  stormy 
nights,  and  with  this  slight  shelter  I  slept 
outdoors  from  April  1st  until  Christmas,  un- 
less there  was  a  heavy,  fall  of  snow,  mean- 
time. 

I  found  it  inconvenient  to  cook  my  break- 
fast, and  then,  after  eating  it,  go  to  the  city. 
Why  I  did  so  was  on  account  of  my  coffee 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

habit.  I  had  tried  to  find  a  good  cup  of 
coffee  in  the  city  and  had  failed,  so  had  de- 
pended on  my  own  brewing. 

One  morning  I  dropped  into  the  little  store 
at  the  head  of  Pavilion  Beach,  and  the  pro- 
prietor asked  me  to  have  a  cup  of  coffee. 
He  piloted  me  into  a  back  shop,  where  he 
told  me  that  he  served  a  light  lunch  with 
coffee,  to  the  farmers.  The  coffee  was  just 
to  my  taste,  and  for  twelve  years  I  patron- 
ized the  coffee  trade  in  that  little  back  shop. 
My  note-book  shows  that  during  the  twelve 
years  I  had  missed  only  eighty  mornings. 
I  had  paid  six  hundred  and  forty-five  dollars, 
during  that  time,  for  my  lunch  and  coffee, 
and  had  walked,  on  account  of  my  breakfast, 
seventeen  thousand  two  hundred  miles.  Whew ! 
It  makes  me  feel  poor  and  tired  to  recall  it. 
I  do  not  remember  that  I  remained  at  home 
to  breakfast  on  account  of  a  storm.  The 
eighty  mornings  which  I  missed  in  the  twelve 
years  were  accounted  for  by  absence  from 
the  city. 

I  would  leave  my  cabin,  summer  or  winter, 
100 


CHANGES    IN    HERMIT  -  LIFE 

at  half -past  five  o'clock,  so  I  could  sit  down 
to  breakfast  in  the  back  shop  about  six. 

In  the  winter  months  it  w^,s  dark  at  half- 
past  five  in  the  morning,  but  that  did  not  dis- 
turb me.  I  did  not  use  a  lantern  because  I 
would  not  be  bothered  with  it,  and  for  another 
reason.  It  made  one  a  bright  and  shining 
object  for  early  ghouls  or  tramps. 

For  some  years  past  I  have  discontinued 
my  early  morning  tramps,  but  I  love  to  recall 
the  persistence  with  which  I  clung  to  habit. 
Those  early  walks  afforded  me  much  pleasure 
and  some  hardships.  During  the  spring 
months  the  frogs  and  birds  enlivened  my 
morning  walk  with  music.  The  bird-music 
along  the  route  to  the  city  was  divided  accord- 
ing to  locality.  Before  leaving  the  cabin, 
from  early  daylight,  there  would  be  a  variety 
of  bird-songs.  In  numbers  the  veery  led 
all  the  rest.  Then  followed  the  red-eyed  vireo. 
After  these,  I  could  hear  only  one  song  each 
of  the  following  species : 

Catbird,     townee-bunting,     chestnut-sided 


101 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 


CEDAR -BIRD. 


warbler,  robin,  black-throated  green  warbler, 

oven-bird,   wood-thrush,   and   warbling-vireo. 

Indigo-birds  and  cedar-birds  some  years  could 

102 


CHANGES    IN    HERMIT  -  LIFE 

be  added  to  the  list,  but  they  are  erratic 
birds,  and  cannot  be  depended  upon. 

My  route  to  the  city  was  along  the  deserted 
old  highway.  When  I  had  climbed  the  first 
hill  (where  my  new  cabin  now  stands),  I  could 
overlook  a  rugged  territory  where  the  fire 
and  axe  had  exterminated  the  large  trees, 
leaving  a  low,  shrubby  growth,  just  suited  to 
the  needs  of  the  birds.  The  songs  of  the 
catbird,  towhee-bunting,  and  robin  were  heard 
here,  and,  strange  to  tell,  in  a  distant  corner 
of  the  territory,  could  be  heard  the  loud  carol 
of  the  song-sparrow.  A  few  pairs  of  these 
birds  had  changed  their  nesting  site  from 
pasture  to  shrub-land.  I  knew  that  these 
sparrows  were  descendants  of  my  pet  birds, 
Wabbles  and  his  first  wife.  They  were  born 
in  the  woods,  and  so  reared  their  children  in 
the  same  surroundings. 

The  frog-pond  was  just  beyond  the  hill, 
and  when  the  toads  and  frogs  did  not  drown 
their  music,  birds  could  be  heard  singing  from 
morning  till  night  during  the  nesting  season. 

There  was  a  colony  of  Maryland  yellow- 
103 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

throats  near  this  spot,  and  the  sprightly  song 
could  be  heard  from  May  1st  to  the  middle  of 
July.  I  have  heard  the  song  in  September. 

A  short  distance  from  the  frog-pond,  on 
the  left,  there  is  another  pond,  or  shoal  bog, 
where  frogs  and  red-winged  blackbirds  appear 
to  own  the  earth  or  water.  Still  farther  along 


MARYLAND      YELLOWTHROAT. 

the  old  highway,  on  the  right,  there  is  a 
walled-in  territory,  called  the  "  Sheep  Pas- 
ture." I  think  I  could  carry  the  grass  in 
this  so-called  pasture  in  my  hands.  A  mass 
of  boulders  and  bed-rock,  set  off  by  barberry- 
bushes,  comprises  the  view,  but  this  rugged 
pasture  (?)  is  the  home  of  the  field-sparrow 
(Spizella  agrestis).  This  sparrow  is  not  so 
common  as  the  song-sparrow  and  bay- 
104 


RED -WINGED    BLACKBIRDS. 


CHANGES    IN    HERMIT  -  LIFE 

winged  bunting.  I  consider  it  a  rare  treat 
to  listen  to  this  sweet  singer.  I  made  it  a 
practice,  during  the  season  of  song,  to  stop 
by  this  old  pasture,  not  only  to  hear  the 
sparrow,  but  a  brown  thrush  as  well.  The 
thrush  occupied  the  other  side  of  the  old 
highway,  and  when  he  saw  me  coming,  he 
would  mount  to  the  top  of  a  small  tree  and 
sing  so  long  as  I  remained  to  listen. 

Farther  along  on  the  old  road,  a  pair  of 
redstarts  could  be  found  every  spring.  The 
male  did  his  singing  in  a  wild  apple-tree. 
From  this  spot,  down  "  Slaughter-house  Hill," 
to  Western  Avenue,  I  found  song-sparrows 
to  be  the  prevailing  bird.  There  were  a  few 
chestnut-sided  warblers,  robins,  and  catbirds. 

The  birds  I  have  mentioned,  that  nest 
along  the  old  road,  look  upon  me  with 
friendly  eyes  as  I  pass.  When  they  re- 
turn in  the  spring,  they  give  a  greeting  which 
I  understand,  because  the  notes  are  in  a  higher 
key,  and  are  never  repeated  through  the  sum- 
mer. While  passing  daily  over  the  road  I 
have  made  it  a  practice  to  talk  to  the  birds. 
105 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

so  many  of  them,  not  all,  greet  me  as  before 
mentioned. 

The  brown  thrush  is  usually  more  demon- 


SWAMP    SONG  -  SPARROW. 

strative  than  other  birds.  His  greeting  is 
almost  like  the  shrill  cry  of  a  small  boy.  Two 
years  ago,  when  rounding  a  turn  in  the  old 
road,  I  saw  four  thrushes  before  me.  I  stopped 
106 


CHANGES    IN    HERMIT -LIFE 

to  observe  them,  when  I  heard  behind  me  the 
laugh  of  a  boy.  I  glanced  back,  but  saw 
no  one.  Again  I  heard  the  laugh,  and  this 
time  I  located  the  sound  over  the  wall,  and 
started  to  call,  when  a  male  thrush  flew  to 
the  top  of  a  small  cherry-tree,  and,  after 


BALTIMORE     ORIOLE. 


laughing  as  before,  gave  me  a  song.  This 
thrush  was  my  old  friend  just  returned  from 
the  South,  and  when  he  saw  me  looking  at 
his  mates,  he  called  out  to  let  me  know  where 
to  find  him. 

Along  Western  Avenue  the  tall  elms  har- 
bored many  singers.     The  Baltimore  orioles' 
107 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 


loud  notes  could  be  heard  above  other  bird- 
songs.  Linnets,  chipping-sparrows,  bluebirds, 
and  bay-winged-buntings  were  scattered  along 
the  route  to  the  city.  When  I  had  reached  the 
sea-wall,  the  gulls  were  the  birds  to  attract 
my  attention.  Some  were  seen  skimming  the 
surface  of  the  water,  while  others  were  an- 
chored in  large  rafts.  The  gulls  appeared  to 
be  fearless,  and  swung  to  and  fro  near  the 
beach,  but,  just  the  same,  the  crafty  birds 
did  not  approach  near  enough  for  a  shot. 
They  knew  how  far  the  modern  gun  could 
shoot,  and  gauged  their  flight  accordingly. 
Whenever  one  desired  to  cross  the  highway 
to  the  marshes  beyond,  it  would  rise  above 
gunshot  before  making  the  attempt.  Besides 
the  keen  sense  which  the  gulls  possess,  they 
carry  themselves  with  true  dignity. 

From  the  first  of  April  to  the  middle  of 
November  I  looked  every  morning  for  my 
"  lone  fisherman."  There  was  a  stake  near 
the  drawbridge  which  a  belted  kingfisher  had 
preempted.  For  six  years  this  feathered  fish- 
erman held  that  stake,  while  he  had  to  face 
108 


CHANGES    IN    HERMIT  -  LIFE 

almost  all  the  travel  in  and  out  of  the  city. 
The  nest  was  in  a  clay -bank  that  overhung 
the  beach  near  Stage  Fort. 

It  is  needless  for  me  to  tell  that  I  derived 
great  pleasure  from  my  daily  association  with 


BELTED    KINGFISHER,    WATCHING. 

the  birds  that  nested  along  my  route  to  the 
city. 

The  hardships  which  I  have  mentioned  were 

encountered  in  the  winter  months,  when  storms 

prevailed.     Cold  starlight  mornings  were  my 

delight.     If  there  was  snow  on  the  ground  it 

109 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 


added  a  new  pleasure.  I  always  enjoyed  the 
keen,  cutting  air.  Sometimes  there  were 
storms  in  the  morning  with  rain  or  snow.  At 
times,  the  wind  would  blow  such  a  furious 
gale  on  the  Cut,  that  it 
would  make  it  nearly  im- 
possible to  reach  my  haven. 
When  safely  housed  at  last, 
I  always  felt  satisfied  with 
myself,  because  of  my  vic- 
tory over  the  elements. 
One  storm  forced  me  to  re- 
main in  the  city  overnight. 
The  storm  had  died  out, 
but  had  created  a  sea  such 
as  is  seldom  seen  even  on 
the  Cape.  I  went  over  to 
Bass  Rocks,  to  see  the 
waves  break,  and  did  not 
get  back  to  Western  Avenue  until  near  night. 
I  found  the  street  full  of  snow  and  sea-water. 
I  waded  nearly  to  the  drawbridge  and  then 
mounted  the  sea-wall.  I  soon  found  that  the 
large  waves  broke  over  the  wall,  and  with 
110 


KIKGFISHER, 
STRIKING. 


CHANGES    IN    HERMIT  -  LIFE 

force  enough  to  wash  me  overboard,  so  I 
turned  back.  The  street  was  closed  to  travel 
afterward,  by  the  city  officials. 


KINGFISHER    LIFTING    HIS    CATCH. 

During  the  summer  weather  I  saw  many 
strange  sights  when  taking  my  morning  walk. 
One  morning,  a  pasture-rabbit  tore  along  the 
111 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

old  road  as  if  he  were  racing  for  life.  He 
passed  me  without  turning  his  head,  and  was 
out  of  sight  around  a  turn  in  the  path  before 
I  had  recovered  from  my  surprise.  While 
I  was  looking,  he  came  back,  jumping  high 
and  long;  after  he  had  got  by  the  turn,  and 
nearly  to  my  feet,  he  gave  a  great  jump  side- 
waj^s,  and  landed  in  a  clump  of  weeds.  Just 
then  a  stoat  came  in  sight  on  the  rabbit's 
trail.  His  leaps  were  not  expended  in  the 
air,  but  were  swift,  long,  and  near  the  ground. 
It  was  evident  that  the  poor  rabbit  had  no 
chance  to  escape  from  such  a  supple,  blood- 
thirsty foe  without  help.  When  the  stoat  was 
out  of  sight,  the  rabbit  again  took  to  the 
road.  He  passed  me,  then  turned  into  the 
woods.  Whether  he  knew  it  or  not,  it  was 
the  best  thing  to  do.  It  left  the  hermit  to 
face  his  relentless  foe.  Perhaps  the  birds  had 
told  the  rabbit  that  the  hermit  was  a  friend. 
The  stoat  came  back,  hunting  both  sides  of 
the  road.  He  understood  just  how  he  had 
been  tricked.  When  he  found  the  trail  in  the 
weeds,  he  circled  around  until  satisfied  that  the 


CHANGES    IN    HERMIT  -  LIFE 


rabbit  had  returned  to  the  road.  When  we 
met,  he  seemed  surprised,  but  he  tried  to  pass, 
spitting  spitefully  to  frighten  me.  I  drove 
him  back,  and  managed  to  keep  him  from  the 
rabbit's  trail  until  it  was  too  cold  to  follow. 

I  expect  that  this  rescue  established  my 
reputation  with  the  rabbits,  for  from  time  to 
time  they  came  into  my  dooryard  when  chased 
by  a  mink  or  stoat.  Whenever  it  occurs  on 
Sunday  there  are  visitors  present,  who  are  in- 
variably excited  for  the  welfare  of  the  rabbit. 

The  stoat  is  the  large  weasel.  It  turns 
white  in  the  winter,  and  is  then  the  ermine. 

Of  all  the  incidents  that  happened  during 
my  morning  walks,  there  is  one  that  I  cannot 
explain  without  resorting  to  a  belief  in  hypno- 
tism. I  was  on  the  way  to  the  city  when 
a  turn  in  the  path  brought  into  sight  a  large 
mink,  apparently  coal-black.  His  peculiar 
actions  caught  my  attention  first,  but  soon 
I  saw  a  ruffed  grouse  about  twelve  feet  be- 
yond the  mink.  Every  feather  on  the  grouse 
stood  up,  causing  the  bird  to  look  as  large 
as  a  small  turkey.  The  mink  was  making 
113 


Clje 

Hermits  Wild  Friends 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

figure  eights,  moving  from  side  to  side  of  the 
grassy  path,  which  was  over  five  feet  in  width. 
His  movements  were  so  rapid  the  eye  could 
see  only  a  black  streak.  While  I  could 
not  see  the  mink  move  toward  the  grouse,  I  saw 
that  the  distance  between  them  grew  less  quite 
rapidly.  Feeling  sure  that  the  grouse  was 
doomed,  for  it  seemed  unable  to  do  anything 
but  follow  the  rapid  motion  of  the  mink,  I 
stepped  forward  and  gave  a  shout.  The 
grouse  flew  away,  and  the  mink  turned  on  me 
and  let  out  a  yell  that  was  fierce  and  loud 
enough  for  a  tiger.  He  acted  as  if  he  meant 
to  attack  me,  but  thought  better  of  it,  and 
ran  into  a  stone  wall.  From  this  safe  retreat 
he  yelled  while  I  was  in  sight.  This  case 
puzzled  me.  It  appeared  almost  impossible 
that  such  a  wary,  muscular  bird  as  the  grouse 
could  be  hypnotized.  The  mink  was  surely 
but  slowly  nearing  the  grouse  when  I  inter- 
fered. I  am  sorry  I  did  not  remain  quiet,  and 
so  find  out  if  the  grouse  was  able  to  fly  away 
before  the  danger-point  was  reached.  As  it  is, 
I  remain  in  doubt. 

114 


'THE      DISTANCE      BETWEEN      THEM      GREW     LESS      QUITE 
RAPIDLY." 


CHANGES    IN    HERMIT  -  LIFE 

Returning  from  the  city  one  morning  in 
October,  I  turned  off  the  old  highway  into 
the  woods.  I  thought  that  some  of  the  wood- 
folk  would  notice  my  visit  and  reward  me  with 
gossip  for  my  note-book.  I  stopped  to  rest 
near  a  red  squirrel's  nest.  The  nest  was  in 
the  top  of  a  tall  hemlock-tree  and  I  was  on 
the  ground,  but  the  proprietor  knew  I  could 
climb,  and  so  was  eager  to  drive  me  away. 
He  did  not  dare  to  attack  me,  for  I  suppose 
that  sometime  in  his  life  he  had  worked  the 
idea  through  his  little  head  that  man  was  too 
big  and  powerful  to  be  whipped  by  a  red 
squirrel,  but  he  did  the  next  thing.  He  flew 
into  a  passion  and  abused  me  in  the  expressive 
and  vehement  language  common  to  this  squir- 
rel. He  would  run  out  on  the  limbs  over  my 
head  and  dance  himself  into  a  frenzy,  and 
chatter  and  bark  and  shriek  as  if  that  would 
drive  me  away.  He  was  wound  up  for  a  half- 
hour.  After  he  had  run  down,  he  stretched 
out  on  a  limb  and  silently  watched  me.  Soon 
after,  I  heard  a  slight  rustling  of  leaves,  and 
a  gray  squirrel  appeared  from  the  underbrush 
115 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 


with  an  acorn  in  his  mouth.  The  red  saw 
the  gray,  but  remained  silent.  The  gray 
squirrel  selected  a  spot  and  proceeded  to  bury 
the  nut.  When  he  had  finished  and  was  pat- 
ting the  dirt  down,  the  red  set  up  a  great 
laugh.  The  gray  cast  one  look  aloft,  and 
instantly  his  little  paws  were  making  the  dirt 
fly.  In  less  time  than  it  takes  me  to  write  it, 
he  had  dug  up  the  nut  and  had  disappeared. 
I  don't  think  the  red  squirrel  thought  to  ap- 
propriate the  nut.  I  think  he  enjoyed  the 
joke  which  was  on  the  gray.  I  know  that  I 
did. 

A  thaw  in  the  winter  made  trouble  for  me 
outside  of  the  sloppy  walking.  It  brought 
out  the  skunk  family,  and  each  individual 
skunk  thought  he  owned  the  old  highway,  and 
he  did,  when  I  met  him.  Many  and  many 
times  I  have  had  to  climb  through  snow,  or 
over  ledges,  to  give  the  right  of  way  to  some 
sleepy  old  fraud,  that  did  not  know  enough 
about  man  to  be  afraid  of  him. 

One  evening  I  went  to  the  well  for  water, 
and  left  the  cabin  door  open.  When  I  re- 
116 


IEK.M1T,     YOU    ARE    OUT. 


CHANGES    IN    HERMIT  -  LIFE 

turned,  I  saw  a  big  skunk  climbing  over  the 
door-sill.  I  shouted,  in  hopes  to  make  him 
turn  back,  but  he  looked  at  me  as  much  as 
to  say,  "  Hermit,  you  are  out,"  and  so  I  was. 
It  was  a  cold,  drizzly  evening,  and  I  was  in 
my  shirt-sleeves.  It  was  a  good  half-hour 
before  the  scamp  had  satisfied  himself  that 
my  stores  were  locked  up.  I  was  glad  that 
he  did  not  try  his  teeth  on  my  cupboard.  In 
that  case  I  should  have  had  to  stop  out  all 
night. 


117 


VI. 
THE    WHITE -FOOTED    MOUSE 

THE  white-footed  mouse,  unlike  the  house 
mouse,  is  a  handsome  fellow.  He  sports  a 
chestnut  coat,  a  white  vest,  reddish  brown 
trousers,  and  white  stockings.  His  eyes  and 
ears  are  uncommonly  large,  causing  his  head 
to  resemble  a  deer's  in  miniature.  This  resem- 
blance has  bestowed  upon  him  the  name  of 
"  deer-mouse."  He  is  also  called  "  wood- 
mouse,"  but  is  known  to  science  as  Hespe- 
romys  leucopus. 

My  object  in  writing  about  these  mice  is 
to  call  attention  to  their  peculiar  method  of 
communication.  I  have  summered  and  win- 
tered them  over  fifteen  years,  and  never  have 
I  heard  one  of  them  utter  a  vocal  sound.  They 
communicate  with  each  other  by  drumming 
118 


THE    WHITE -FOOTED    MOUSE 


with  their  fore  feet,  or,  rather,  they  drum  with 
their  toes,  for  the  foot  in  the  act  is  held  rigid 
while  the  toes  move. 

If  any  writer  has  called  attention  to  this 
peculiar  method  of  communication,  it  has  es- 
caped my  reading.  I  am  well  satisfied  that 
the  habit  has  never  been  published  before,  so 
it  must  prove  interesting  to  those  who  pry 
into  the  secrets  of  Dame  Nature. 

The  white-footed  mouse  has  taken  possession 
of  my  cabin.  Until  a  year  ago  the  mice  were 
kept  in  check  by  stoats,  but  for  some  reason 
the  stoats  have  failed  to  appear,  and  the  mice 
are  increasing  rapidly.  I  find  their  nests  in 
every  nook  and  corner.  I  go  bareheaded  the 
most  of  the  time,  so  it  happens  that  when  I 
do  need  a  hat  I  find  it  occupied  by  an  enter- 
prising mouse  and  her  family.  Now  a  few 
mice  for  company  in  the  winter  evenings  would 
not  be  objectionable,  but  I  draw  the  line  when 
they  become  so  numerous  that  I  am  forced 
to  eat  and  sleep  with  them.  They  are  too 
cunning  and  intelligent  to  be  kept  in  check  by 
traps.  I  have  tried  all  kinds  of  traps,  only  to 
119 


!_} 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

find  them  useless.  Last  winter  I  bought  a 
wire  rat-trap  —  the  kind  with  a  trencher  that 
tips  and  slides  the  rat  into  the  space  below. 
The  trap  was  a  failure.  The  mice  were  highly 
delighted  with  the  contrivance,  and  from  the 
first  used  the  trencher  as  a  door  leading  into 
and  out  of  the  trap. 

How  does  it  happen  that  these  shy  inhabi- 
tants of  the  woods  are  more  intelligent  than 
the  cunning  citrat? 

Some  writers  tell  us  that  the  lower  animals 
cannot  reason.  In  such  case  it  ought  to  be 
an  easy  matter  for  man  to  outwit  a  lot  of 
foolish  little  mice.  I  tried  the  experiment  by 
fixing  a  wire  to  the  trencher  in  such  a  way  as 
to  give  me  full  control.  When  the  mice  were 
engaged  on  the  food  in  the  trap  I  pulled  my 
wire  and  made  it  fast.  The  next  morning  my 
prisoners  numbered  twenty-eight.  I  was 
about  to  drown  the  lot,  when  several  pets  clung 
to  the  upper  wires  of  the  trap,  and  the  mute 
appeal  in  their  great  wild  eyes  softened  my 
foolish  heart,  and  I  thought  it  would  be  more 
humane  to  lose  them  in  the  woods.  I  carried 
120 


THE    WHITE -FOOTED    MOUSE 


them  nearly  a  mile  from  the  cabin,  and  turned 
them  out  near  some  big  boulders.  I  left  a 
supply  of  food,  and  promised  myself  to  feed 
them  from  time  to  time.  Two  nights  later 
they  were  all  back  in  the  cabin.  Upon  in- 
vestigation I  found  that  they  had  followed  my 
footsteps.  I  could  see  their  tracks  in  the  snow 
where  they  had  trooped  along  in  short  jour- 
neys. At  the  end  of  each  journey  the  tracks 
would  disappear  under  a  boulder  or  a  tree, 
only  to  appear  again,  but  always  heading  for 
the  cabin. 

I  baited  and  fixed  the  trap,  while  the  mice 
scampered  about,  evidently  celebrating  their 
return.  I  told  them  plainly  that  this  was 
their  last  night  on  earth ;  that  I  had  out- 
witted them  once  and  would  now  outwit  them 
again.  But  all  my  boasting  came  to  naught. 
Not  a  mouse  would  enter  that  trap  while  the 
wire  was  on  the  trencher.  The  third  night 
I  removed  the  wire,  and  the  mice  entered  the 
trap  without  fear. 

Vainglorious  man  had  pitted  his  wit  against 
the  wit  of  these  little  rodents,  and  the  rodents 
121 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

had  triumphed.  Every  sportsman  knows  how 
it  is.  He  finds  the  wild  things  just  as  in- 
telligent and  crafty  as  man  with  all  his  boasted 
superiority. 

I  desire  to  emphasize  what  I  have  already 
stated  as  to  the  peculiar  method  employed 
by  these  mice  when  communicating  with  each 
other. 

If  any  one  has  been  fortunate  enough  to 
have  heard  a  vocal  sound  uttered  by  a  white- 
footed  mouse,  I  shall  greatly  like  to  hear  of 
the  fact.  A  daily  and  nightly  knowledge  of 
these  little  mice  for  more  than  fifteen  years 
has  led  me  to  believe  that  they  are  completely 
dumb.  They  talk  with  their  toes  just  as  deaf 
and  dumb  people  talk  with  their  fingers,  only 
they  are  guided  by  the  ear  instead  of  the  eye. 
Proof  that  they  are  talking  together  is  found 
in  the  fact  that  they  go  on  with  the  drumming 
when  in  full  view  of  each  other.  When  calling 
to  attract  attention,  they  drum  a  long  roll 
which  corresponds  to  the  halloo  of  the  tele- 
phone. The  answer  is  the  same;  afterward 
the  rolls  are  variously  interrupted.  Through 


THE    WHITE -FOOTED    MOUSE 


the  winter  months  the  mice  about  my  cabin 
look  to  me  for  food.  By  catering  to  their 
wants  I  have  mastered  their  calls  for  food  and 
water.  I  keep  a  loaf  of  bread  on  the  floor, 
and  it  is  no  unusual  thing  to  see  a  dozen  mice 
eating  and  fighting  around  the  food.  When- 
ever I  forget  to  supply  the  bread,  the  mice 
come  out  of  their  nests  and  drum  the  long 
roll,  the  call  over  their  telephone,  to  attract 
my  attention.  If  I  am  reading  or  writing 
and  do  not  heed  the  call,  they  continue  the 
long  roll,  drumming  on  books,  tinware,  papers, 
and  on  the  wooden  shelves.  The  moment  I 
look  up  or  speak,  all  hands  drum  the  food- 
call,  a  long  followed  by  a  short  roll. 

The  call  for  water  is  two  short  rolls.  The 
danger-call  is  two  long  rolls  drummed  rapidly 
and  vigorously.  The  young  mice  learn  to 
drum  when  nearly  full-grown,  but  understand 
and  answer  the  drumming  of  the  mother- 
mouse  when  quite  young.  I  have  had  proof 
of  this  more  times  than  I  can  remember. 

An  old  mouse,  a  pet  of  long  standing,  on 
cool  nights  takes  her  family  to  the  roof  of  the 
123 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

cabin.  The  roof  is  warm  and  makes  an  ideal 
playground  for  the  little  ones.  Here  they 
race  and  romp  until  daylight,  when  the 
mother-mouse  puts  them  to  bed  for  the  day. 
Soon  after  I  hear  the  mice  on  the  roof,  early 
"  wwe.  ooud  *n  ^e  evenmg>  the  old  mouse  comes  down  to 

Mou3"  see  if  food  and  water  are  on  hand.  If  she 
finds  things  all  right,  she  takes  a  drink  and 
then  calls  her  family  down.  As  near  as  I 
can  make  it  out,  she  drums  three  rolls,  a 
long  roll  between  two  short  rolls.  Anyhow, 
the  young  mice  understand,  and  scamper  down 
and  drink  and  eat,  after  a  harum-scarum 
fashion.  The  old  mouse  drums  to  me  if  there 
is  no  water  in  the  dish.  The  young  mice  must 
hear  this  drumming,  but  pay  no  attention  to 
it,  which  proves  that  they  understand  the 
different  calls.  The  old  mouse  drums  on  the 
tin  wash-dish,  and  her  claws  make  a  sound 
that  rings  out  loud  and  clear.  She  drums 
first  the  long  roll  to  attract  my  attention,  and 
then  drums  the  water-call.  If  food  is  wanted, 
she  drums  the  food-call  after  attracting  at- 
tention. 

124 


"IT    CARRIES    ITS    VICTIM    BY    THE    MIDDLE.' 


THE    WHITE -FOOTED    MOUSE 


The  white-footed  mouse  has  a  deadly  enemy 
in  the  weasel  family,  the  stoat,  or  ermine, 
which  pursues  its  defenceless  victims  every 
month  in  the  year.  I  seldom  see  a  small  weasel, 
but  the  stoat  is  common  in  this  vicinity. 

While  a  stoat  is  rearing  its  young,  the  life 
of  the  white-footed  mouse  is  made  miserable. 
By  day  and  by  night  its  bloodthirsty  foe 
is  on  the  trail.  It  is  no  unusual  thing  to 
see  a  stoat  running  along  the  wall  back  of 
the  cabin  with  a  mouse  in  its  mouth.  It  car- 
ries its  victim  by  the  middle,  and  alwa}rs  re- 
minds me  of  the  picture  of  a  tiger  carrying  off 
a  Hottentot.  Some  of  the  old  mice  are  quick- 
witted and  full  of  resource,  and  escape  danger, 
otherwise  the  species  would  soon  be  exter- 
minated. There  is  an  auger-hole  in  one  of 
the  logs  inside  the  cabin  that  affords  a  mouse 
a  safe  retreat.  Several  times  I  have  seen  a 
stoat  thrust  its  paw  into  the  hole,  only  to 
jerk  it  out  in  hot  haste.  A  drop  of  blood  on 
the  log  would  show  that  the  mouse  had  de- 
fended itself  with  its  sharp  teeth. 

There  are  three  mice  about  my  cabin  that 
125 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

for  years  have  managed  to  escape  the  stoats. 
Time  after  time  I  have  saved  the  lives  of  these 
mice.  The  three  are  pets,  and  intelligent 
enough  to  know  that  I  will  protect  them  from 
their  fierce  and  relentless  foe.  In  the  night- 
time, if  hard  pressed,  they  dive  into  my  bed, 
while  by  day  they  sound  the  danger-call, 
knowing  full  well  that  I  will  come  to  the 
rescue  and  drive  away  their  enemy. 

To  a  stranger  these  mice  look  as  much  alike 
as  peas  in  a  pod,  but  for  me  they  possess 
individualities  as  marked  and  distinct  as  could 
be  found  in  three  human  beings.  One  of  the 
three,  the  mouse  that  uses  the  roof  for  a  play- 
ground, always  nests  under  a  stone  wall  just 
back  of  the  cabin.  Number  two  nests  in  the 
cabin  summer  and  winter.  When  the  weather 
is  warm  she  makes  a  nest  on  a  high  shelf,  but 
in  cold  weather  her  nest  is  on  the  floor  under 
a  pile  of  newspapers.  Number  three  nests 
where  I  nest.  When  I  sleep  in  the  cabin,  the 
nest  of  this  mouse  is  always  there.  When  I 
sleep  in  the  open  air,  under  a  roof  to  keep  off 
the  rain,  the  mouse  follows  me,  nesting  under 
126 


THE    WHITE -FOOTED    MOUSE 


newspapers  or  in  a  box  which  I  supply.  If 
she  has  a  family  when  I  move,  it  does  not 
prevent  her  from  following  me.  She  makes 
ready  a  nest,  and  then  takes  her  family  to  the 
new  quarters. 

For  keen  intelligence  mouse  number  two 
takes  the  lead.  All  through  the  summer 
months  she  makes  a  nest  on  a  high  shelf  in 
the  cabin.  When  there  is  a  fire  in  the  stove 
the  heat  becomes  oppressive  in  the  top  of  the 
cabin,  and  the  young  mice  would  perish  if 
it  were  not  for  the  intelligence  of  the  old 
mouse. 

When  I  fill  the  stove  with  wood  the  old 
mouse  understands  just  what  will  take  place. 
She  knows  that  I  am  about  to  kindle  a  fire, 
and  she  rushes  to  a  shelf  near  the  stove  and 
frantically  drums  the  danger-signal.  She 
also  does  a  lot  of  drumming  which  I  do  not 
understand.  She  tries  to  tell  me  in  her  dumb 
language  that  a  fire  will  destroy  her  little 
family.  When  the  mouse  finds  that  I  do  not 
heed  her  appeal,  she  knows  that  her  family 
will  be  destroyed,  and  can  be  saved  only  by 
127 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

her  own  hasty  efforts.  The  one  thing  to  do 
is  to  remove  her  babies  to  a  place  far  away 
from  the  death-dealing  heat.  If  the  young 
mice  are  small,  in  some  mysterious  way  the 
mother-mouse  induces  each  youngster  to  cling 
to  a  teat,  when  the  whole  family  is  removed 
in  this  novel  manner  to  a  safe  retreat  beneath 
the  cabin.  It  is  a  comical  sight  to  see  the 
old  mouse  crawling  along  a  log  with  eight 
or  ten  raw,  shapeless  things  clinging  to  her 
like  grim  death.  The  hole  in  the  ivall  that 
leads  outside  is  small,  and  the  old  mouse  has 
a  long  struggle  to  get  her  load  safely  through. 
Now  and  then  a  young  mouse  drops  off  and 
remains  squirming  where  it  chances  to  fall. 
The  mother  invariably  returns  and  gathers 
in  the  missing. 

When  the  young  mice  are  half -grown,  they 
are  removed  in  a  different  manner.  They  are 
now  too  large  to  be  dragged  as  before.  They 
are  also  too  large  to  be  carried  by  the  neck. 
The  mother  overcomes  this  difficulty  by  doub- 
ling up  the  young  mouse  and  then  grasping 
it  by  the  crossed  legs.  The  young  mouse 
128 


THE    WHITE -FOOTED    MOUSE 


turns  its  head  inward  and  holds  it  in  place  by 
biting  on  to  one  of  its  own  legs.  In  this  way 
a  young  mouse  is  made  up  into  a  round,  com- 
pact bundle.  When  the  hole  in  the  wall  is 
reached  it  often  happens  that  the  mother  can- 
not push  her  load  through.  After  several 
unsuccessful  efforts  she  turns  about  and  backs 
through  the  hole,  dragging  the  load  after 
her. 

All  in  all,  the  white-footed  mouse  has 
afforded  me  much  pleasure,  but  at  times  it 
becomes  a  nuisance.  At  one  time  my  cabin 
was  haunted  by  a  strange  sound.  The  sound 
was  simple  enough,  only  a  sharp  click  re- 
peated over  and  over.  Sometimes,  however, 
the  performance  would  change  to  a  succession 
of  clicks.  For  six  weeks  I  vainly  tried  to 
solve  the  mystery.  At  last  the  clicking  be- 
came downright  annoying.  It  would  break  up 
my  line  of  thought  when  writing.  It  would 
confuse  my  mind  when  reading,  and  I  often 
jokingly  asserted  that  this  mysterious  ghostly 
click,  click  would  send  me  to  the  insane  asylum. 

At  last  I  traced  the  sound  to  a  shelf  where 
129 


Wl>K«Joote<! 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

I  had  placed  an  empty  cigar-box.  I  investi- 
gated, and  the  mystery  was  solved.  A  dozen 
mice  occupied  the  box  as  a  safe  retreat  from 
their  enemy,  the  stoat.  Whenever  a  mouse 
entered  or  left  the  box  the  cover  was  raised, 
and,  falling  into  its  place  again,  made  the 
click  that  had  so  annoyed  me. 

The  box-cover  was  heavy  enough  to  severely 
pinch  a  mouse's  tail,  but  the  cunning  mice 
had  provided  for  this  danger.  A  hole  about 
the  size  of  a  lead-pencil  had  been  gnawed  in 
the  side  of  the  box,  just  below  the  cover,  and 
afforded  a  channel  for  the  tail,  while  it  was 
too  small  to  attract  the  attention  of  a  stoat. 

A  more  cunningly  contrived  retreat  from 
an  enemy  could  not  be  invented.  It  shows 
that  this  wild  mouse  of  the  woods  possesses 
intelligence  which  passes  far  beyond  the 
powers  of  instinct. 

It  would  take  a  volume  to  record  the  inci- 
dents that  have  transpired  in  connection  with 
these  mice  during  the  fifteen  years  of  my  her- 
mit life. 

Some  of  these  incidents  are  comical,  others 
130 


THE    WHITE -FOOTED    MOUSE 

pathetic,  and,  alas !    others  are  tragic.     One 
in  the  comical  line  happened  to  a  young  man 


from  the  city  who  thirsted  for  more  knowledge 

of  the  wild  things.    He  stayed  one  moonlight 

evening  to  see  the  mice  eat.  It  often  happened, 

131 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

when  the  mice  were  gathered  about  a  loaf 
of  bread,  that  a  star-nosed  mole  would  appear 
and  scatter  them  in  all  directions.  If  I  chanced 
to  be  sitting  near,  it  was  no  unusual  thing  for 
a  mouse  to  run  up  my  trousers-leg.  I  kindly 
allowed  the  young  man  the  post  of  honor 
near  the  bread.  Just  what  I  expected  took 
place.  The  mole  appeared,  and  a  frightened 
mouse  rushed  up  the  young  man's  trousers-leg. 
With  a  war-whoop  that  would  have  frightened 
an  Indian,  he  bounded  into  the  dooryard.  The 
mouse  escaped  from  beneath  his  coat-collar  be- 
fore he  got  out  of  the  cabin.  The  young  fel- 
low danced  around  like  a  crazy  man.  When- 
ever his  clothes  touched  him  he  thought  the 
mouse  was  getting  in  its  deadly  work,  and 
administered  slaps  that  must  have  raised  blis- 
ters. When  I  could  control  my  laughter  I 
told  him  that  the  mouse  had  escaped.  I  could 
not  induce  him  to  enter  the  cabin  again. 

The  nests  of  these  mice  are  globular,  but  are 
varied  to  fit  the  surroundings.  Near  the  cabin 
they  are  made  of  bits  of  paper  matted  with 

132 


THE    WHITE -FOOTED    MOUSE 


cotton-batting  and  a  soft  wool  manufactured 
by  the  mice  from  my  old  clothes. 

The  nests  remote  from  the  cabin  are  made 
of  bits  of  dried  leaves,  grasses,  and  plant- 
down.  These  last  are  usually  placed  in  a 
tangle  of  catbrier.  Many  of  these  nests  are 
occupied  through  the  winter.  I  examined  one 
last  week.  It  was  about  five  inches  in  diameter, 
and  was  composed  of  bits  of  leaves  and  milk- 
weed silk.  It  was  rain  and  frost  proof. 

I  sometimes  find  nests  in  tin  cans.  Once 
I  found  a  nest  in  a  paper  bag.  The  paper 
bag  was  in  a  tangle  of  catbrier.  It  was 
nearly  three  feet  from  the  ground,  and  doubt- 
less was  lodged  where  found  by  the  wind. 

The  mother-mouse  is  devoted  to  the  welfare 
of  her  little  family,  which  may  number  any- 
where from  four  to  ten.  When  the  young 
mice  are  small  they  are  raw-looking  things, 
but  are  tough,  wiry,  and  tenacious  of  life. 
At  this  stage,  full-grown  moles  would  destroy 
a  family  in  a  few  seconds,  if  it  were  not  for 
the  watchful  care  of  the  mother. 

As  the  young  mice  grow  they  change  their 
133 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

coats  to  a  dark  lead  color,  which  they  retain 
until  the  first  moult. 

The    white-footed    mouse    will    eat    about 

everything  edible  found  in  the  woods.     It  is 

).  fond  of  mushrooms,  and  never,  like  human 

/I)lt'i°°t€Moi««         beings,  eats  of  the  poisonous  varieties.     I  am 

sorry  to  state  that  it  will  eat  young  birds  if 

small  and  helpless.     It  eats  insects,  berries, 

seeds,  nuts,  bread,  cheese,  and  all  kinds  of 

meat. 

It  stores  up  food  for  winter  in  holes  in  the 

ground  and  in  hollow  trees  and  logs.     The 

-TV  mice  about  my  cabin  store  food  in  anything 

*-}->  that  comes  handy.     I  sometimes  find  a  shoe 

half-full  of  nuts  and  corn. 

The  white-footed  mouse  makes  an  interest- 
ing pet  when  caged.  One  that  reared  a  family 
in  captivity  afforded  me  many  proofs  of  in- 
telligence. 

When  the  cabin  was  too  cold  for  the  little 
ones  she  made  them  warm  and  cozy  in  a  glob- 
ular nest.  If  the  temperature  went  up  she 
removed  the  top  of  the  nest,  and  if  the  heat 
from  the  stove  fell  directly  into  the  cage  she 
134 


THE    WHITE -FOOTED    MOUSE 

piled  up  the  surplus  nesting  material  on  the 
side  to  protect  her  young. 

The  mole  that  I  mentioned  before,  the  one 
that  scatters  the  mice,  is  a  singing  mole.  He 
zigzags  about  the  cabin  floor,  picking  up 
crumbs,  while  he  sings  birdlike  notes  that  are 
as  sweet  and  distinct  as  the  canary's  low 
twitter.  I  see  other  moles,  but  I  have  never 
heard  but  this  one  sing. 


135 


VII. 
THREE    YEARS    LATER 

THE  next  spring,  after  my  attempt  to  thin 
out  the  white-footed  mice,  the  stoats  returned. 
I  did  not  molest  them,  and  they  reduced  the 
number  of  mice  in  short  order.  Mouse  num- 
ber two  had  a  little  family  in  a  nest  on  a 
shelf.  They  were  mice-babies,  helpless  and 
sprawling.  They  were  dragged  out  of  the 
nest  by  one  of  the  stoats,  and  were  killed  one 
at  a  time.  The  stoat  was  obliged  to  make 
three  trips  to  remove  the  pile  of  dead  mice. 
The  mother  had  escaped  by  way  of  the  stone 
wall  at  the  rear  of  the  cabin.  After  the 
slaughter  was  over,  she  returned  and  did  a 
lot  of  drumming.  I  think  she  was  reproach- 
ing me  because  I  did  not  drive  the  stoat  away. 
It  made  me  feel  guilty,  but  I  had  hardened 
136 


THREE    YEARS    LATER 


my  heart,  on  account  of  a  valuable  manuscript 
which  this  mouse  had  purloined  and  reduced 
to  scraps,  with  which  to  decorate  her  last 
nest. 

The  following  morning  I  saw  the  mother 
come  into  the  cabin  with  a  baby  mouse  in  her 
mouth.  I  thought  it  might  be  one  of  her 
own  dropped  by  the  stoat.  But  I  was  soon  un- 
deceived. The  mouse  left,  and  soon  returned 
with  another  little  one.  This  time  I  examined 
the  young  mice.  They  did  not  belong  to 
my  mouse  family.  They  were  strangers  to 
me.  The  old  mouse  cared  for  these  babies 
as  if  they  were  her  own.  I  expect  that  the 
stoats  had  killed  the  mother,  and  my  mouse 
had  adopted  the  orphans. 

The  young  mice  increased  in  size  rapidly, 
and  soon  took  on  the  adult  form  and  color. 
Then  I  recognized  them.  They  were  the  gray 
Hesperomys,  while  my  mice  were  the  fulvous 
Hesperomys.  The  first  is  found  in  deep 
woods,  the  latter  near  farm-buildings  and  in 
the  neighboring  woodlands. 

I  don't  know  where  their  foster-parent 
137 


£/ 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

found  the  little  imps,  but  it  was  a  sorry  find 
for  her.  As  they  increased  in  strength,  it 
was  evident  that  they  conspired  to  take  pos- 
session  of  the  cabin.  They  worked  in  concert 
and  fought  in  concert.  While  they  were  yet 
small  the  two  would  attack  a  full-grown 
mouse.  If  it  chanced  to  be  an  old  male,  the 
little  imps  were  sure  to  get  mauled,  until 
they  would  flee  to  their  mother  for  protection. 
When  full  grown,  they  proved  to  be  a  match, 
single-handed,  for  any  mouse  in  the  cabin. 
Together,  they  were  invincible. 

The  cabin  became  a  battle-field  every  night. 
After  a  few  weeks  the  white-foots  were  com- 
pletely vanquished,  and  left.  The  two  war- 
riors drove  their  foster-mother  outdoors,  then 
for  three  months  held  undisputed  possession 
of  the  food  supply. 

The  white-foots  are  destructive  gnawers, 
but  the  new  mice  could  do  more  damage  in 
one  night  than  all  the  others  could  in  a  week. 
I  had  made  a  poor  exchange.  The  two 
scamps  were  on  friendly  terms  with  me,  and 
did  not  allow  me  to  eat  a  meal  without  their 
138 


THREE    YEARS    LATER 

company.  They  would  come  at  my  call, 
and  would  have  proved  desirable  pets,  if  it 
had  not  been  for  the  gnawing  habit. 

I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  kill  them,  for 
I  knew  it  would  be  only  a  matter  of  time 
when  they  would  destroy  every  book  and  paper 
in  the  cabin.  I  got  rid  of  them,  however, 
without  resorting  to  violence.  A  young  mar- 
ried couple  from  the  city  saw  and  admired 
the  mice,  and  when  I  offered  to  give  them 
away,  gladly  accepted  the  offer.  I  do  not 
know  what  became  of  them,  and  do  not  care 
to  meet  any  of  their  race. 

In  a  short  time  the  white-foots  returned 
to  the  cabin,  and  are  with  me  now.  The  foster  - 
mother  that  was  turned  outdoors  did  not  re- 
turn. She  was  one  of  the  missing,  and  so 
sacrificed  her  life,  after  all  her  care  of  two 
ungrateful  imps. 


139 


VIII. 
THE    CROW 

THE  intelligence  of  the  crow  is  admitted  by 
those  who  deny  reason  to  the  lower  animals. 
This  bird  is  so  large  and  is  so  meddlesome  in 
human  affairs  that  he  has  forced  mankind  to 
acknowledge  his  intelligence. 

While  I  admire  his  ability  to  look  out  for 
number  one,  I  do  not  believe  that  he  is  in 
any  way  beneficial  to  the  farmer.  In  my 
opinion,  he  is  a  great  deal  blacker  than  he 
is  painted  by  our  wise  men  at  Washington. 
After  a  lifetime  knowledge  of  the  crow,  with 
ten  years'  close  observation  of  his  habits,  I 
have  nothing  to  say  in  his  favor. 

While  farming  in  Maine  I  was  a  sworn 
enemy  of  the  crow.  Not  because  he  pulled 
up  my  corn,  thinned  out  my  barley,  and  car- 
140 


THE    CROW 

ried  off  my  chickens ;  these  things  I  could 
provide  against;  I  was  his  enemy  because 
he  robbed  birds'  nests  by  the  wholesale.  It 
did  not  take  me  long  to  find  out  that  this  black 
imp  prevented  the  increase  of  song-birds  in 
cultivated  fields  and  the  adjoining  woodlands. 

I  brought  with  me  my  hatred  of  the  crow 
when  I  dropped  into  the  woods  of  Cape  Ann, 
and  for  several  years  I  made  life  miserable 
for  his  kind  with  trap  and  shotgun. 

Ten  years  ago,  influenced  by  the  articles  in 
Forest  and  Stream  on  game  protection,  I  laid 
aside  my  gun  and  devoted  more  time  to  the 
study  of  the  wild  things.  The  crows  got  the 
benefit  of  this  change.  I  should  have  con- 
tinued my  warfare  if  the  crows  had  plundered 
the  birds'  nests  in  my  vicinity.  King-birds 
nested  near  my  cabin,  and  during  the  nesting- 
season  crows  and  hawks  were  very  careful  to 
give  the  locality  a  wide  berth.  At  other  times 
the  king-birds  did  not  go  far  from  home  to 
attack  the  crows,  and  the  latter  made  them- 
selves at  home  in  my  dooryard,  after  I  had 
ceased  to  persecute  them. 
141 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

Crows  possess  a  language  which  enables 
them  to  communicate  to  each  other  anything 
that  relates  to  crow-life.  They  can  hold  long 
confabs,  and  then  act  intelligently  from  evi- 
dent conclusions. 

In  the  years  when  I  lived  happily  with  my 
shotgun,  before  a  divorce  was  decreed,  I 
planted  a  bushel  of  potatoes  in  the  woods 
on  the  west  side  of  Magnolia  Swamp.  Fire 
had  cleared  the  side-hill,  and  the  prospect  of 
a  crop  was  good. 

The  crows  gathered  in  some  dead  trees, 
out  of  gunshot,  to  criticize  my  work,  and 
seemed  to  be  highly  elated.  Raw  potatoes  are 
not  down  on  the  crow  bill  of  fare,  so  I  thought 
there  would  be  a  great  disappointment  when 
they  investigated  my  work.  The  second  day 
after  I  had  finished  planting  I  visited  the 
spot,  and  found  that  the  crows  had  dug  up 
every  hill  on  the  south  half  of  the  field.  There 
were  three  pieces  of  potato  beside  each  hill, 
so  the  crows  did  not  dig  them  up  for  food. 
Why  they  did  so  much  hard  work  for  nothing 
was  beyond  my  knowledge  of  crow-life.  I 
142 


THE    CROW 

nearly  surrounded  the  other  half  of  the  field 
with  white  cotton  string,  and  retired  to  the 
swamp  to  await  the  crows.  Twenty  minutes 
later  a  sentinel  crow  winged  his  way  to  a  dead 
tree  on  the  hill,  and,  after  looking  for  enemies, 
called  out,  "  Caw,  caw,  caw."  Immediately 
eight  crows  appeared.  They  held  a  consulta- 
tion, and  it  seems  they  decided  that  it  was  a 
good  time  to  dig  up  the  rest  of  my  potatoes, 
for  they  started  for  the  spot  where  they  had 
left  off.  As  this  part  of  the  field  was  under 
a  high  ledge,  the  crows  could  not  see  the 
string  until  they  had  passed  the  brow  of  the 
hill.  The  first  crow  over  saw  the  string,  and 
nearly  turned  a  somersault  in  trying  to  stop 
his  speed.  He  called  out,  "  Cur-cur-cur.  Cur- 
cur-cur,"  and  instantly  every  crow  returned 
to  the  tree.  For  ten  minutes  a  great  confab 
took  place.  The  crow  that  had  discovered 
the  string  was  eagerly  questioned  by  the 
others,  and  replied  in  a  hasty  and  excited 
manner.  After  talking  it  over,  a  crow  flew 
to  the  south  end  of  the  field,  where  he  could 
look  to  the  north  and  see  the  string.  He 
143 


Crow 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

turned  and  reported.     Another  crow  flew  to 
the  north  end  of  the  field  and  stationed  him- 
self in  a  tall  pine-tree.     This  crow  soon  dis- 
je  covered  that  the  string  did  not  surround  the 

Crow  whole  field;    there  was  a  wide  gap  in  front 

of  the  pine-tree.  He  called  "  Caw-caw-caw- 
caw-caw,"  and  the  crows  flew  down  to  the 
tree.  They  were  told  about  the  gap,  and  one 
crow  boldly  flew  through  and  acted  as  sentinel 
from  a  tree  in  the  potato-field.  The  other 
crows  soon  followed,  and  began  digging  up 
the  seed-potatoes.  I  think  they  tasted  of  every 
piece,  with  the  idea  that  somewhere  I  had 
planted  something  good  to  eat.  I  shot  two 
of  the  crows  and  hung  them  in  the  potato- 
field,  but  a  week  later  I  found  the  seeds  dug 
up,  with  the  exception  of  a  few  hills  beneath 
the  string. 

The  few  hills  left  made  quite  a  show  two 
years  later.  They  had  produced  a  crop  each 
year  without  being  discovered  by  hunters. 
But  when  the  weeds  and  shrubs  made  a  rabbit- 
cover,  "  wild  potatoes "  were  discovered  on 
that  side-hill,  and  I  was  soon  informed  of  the 
144 


THE    CROW 

fact  that  the  potato  was  growing  in  a  wild 

state  "  away  back  in  the  woods."  d)e 

I  believe  that  crows  destroy  fully  one-half 
the  quail  and  grouse  on  Cape  Ann.  A  woods 
fire  south  of  my  cabin  burned  the  nest  of  a 
ruffed  grouse  late  in  the  season.  The  grouse 
made  a  new  nest  north  of  my  cabin,  and  one 
day  I  found  four  eggs  in  it.  The  next  morn- 
ing I  heard  a  strange  cry  in  the  direction  of 
the  nest,  and  started  to  investigate.  I  took 
to  the  path  at  the  rear  of  my  cabin,  and  when 
I  had  reached  the  top  of  the  hill  I  saw  the 
grouse  running  toward  me.  She  held  one 
wing  close  to  her  side,  but  with  the  other  she 
was  striking  savagely  at  two  crows  that  hazed 
her  as  they  flew  above  and  around  her.  Just 
as  I  came  in  sight  of  the  trio,  the  grouse 
dropped  an  egg  from  under  the  closed  wing, 
and  one  of  the  crows  seized  it  and  flew  so 
near  me  that  I  could  see  the  egg  in  his  bill. 
The  thing  that  impressed  me  most  was  the 
silence  of  the  crows.  Not  a  sound  did  they 
utter.  The  scamps  knew  that  I  was  near  by, 
and  would  be  warned  of  crow  mischief  if  I 
145 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

heard  their  cries.  The  cry  made  by  the 
grouse  was  new  to  me.  It  was  a  wild  cry  in 
every  sense  of  the  word.  The  grouse,  when 
she  fled  with  her  eggs,  took  the  path  to  the 
cabin,  and  I  think  she  did  it  for  protection. 

Last  spring  I  saw  something  that  added 
to  my  knowledge  of  crow  intelligence. 

Fuller  Brook  runs  past  my  cabin,  and  after 
losing  itself  in  a  swamp,  takes  up  its  course 
again  between  high  granite  hills,  until  it  falls 
into  the  sea  at  Fresh  Water  Cove.  In  the 
valley  along  the  brook  tall  pine  and  hemlock 
trees  make  an  ideal  nesting-site  for  crows  and 
hawks.  Last  spring  I  was  much  interested 
in  a  red-shouldered  hawk's-nest  which  was  in 
this  valley.  There  were  two  crow's  nests  some 
twenty  rods  farther  down  the  valley.  One 
of  my  visits  found  the  male  hawk  at  home,  and 
when  he  discovered  me  he  flew  in  circles  above 
the  trees,  uttering  the  loud  scream  that  can  be 
heard  for  a  mile  or  more.  Soon  two  crows 
came  sneaking  through  the  tree-tops  to  find 
out  what  was  disturbing  the  hawk.  The 
hawk  flew  to  a  tall  pine,  but  continued  his 
146 


THE    CROW 

cries  after  he  had  alighted.  The  crows  flew 
to  the  same  pine,  and,  taking  a  position  near 
the  hawk,  began  to  talk  to  him  in  a  low  tone. 
It  was  evident  that  they  were  telling  him  that 
his  loud  screams  would  bring  all  the  hunters 
of  Cape  Ann  to  the  spot.  The  hawk  con- 
tinued to  scream,  and  one  crow,  in  a  loud 
tone,  called  out,  "  Caw-caw-caw-caw-caw." 
Immediately  five  other  crows  appeared,  and  all 
attacked  the  hawk,  striking  at  him  with  their 
wings  until  he  ceased  to  scream. 

The  crafty  crows  did  not  care  about  the 
hawk's  nest,  but  they  did  not  intend  to  have 
the  hawk  publish  the  fact.  Well  they  knew 
that  a  search  would  expose  the  two  nests  down 
the  valley. 

The  red-shouldered  hawk  seems  to  be  too 
slow  and  clumsy  to  wage  war  on  crows,  and 
the  birds  nest  near  each  other,  without  trouble, 
only  as  I  have  related. 

The  crows  in  my  locality  have  named  me 
in  the  crow  language.  Two  caws  is  the  way 
the  sentinel  announces  my  approach  to  his 
mates. 

147 

4BB^HSfc     <- 

Crow 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

Several  years  ago  I  had  occasion  to  pass 
Crow  every  night  a  spot  in  the  woods  where  dead 

horses  are  buried.  The  crows  would  gather 
there  nightly,  but  always  had  a  sentinel  out. 
The  sentinel  took  up  a  position  in  a  tall  oak 
on  a  hill  where  he  could  overlook  all  the  ap- 
proaches. When  everything  was  quiet  the 
sentinel  called  out,  "  Caw-caw-caw,"  which 
means  "  All  is  well."  If  a  man  approaches, 
the  danger-signal  is,  "  Cur-cur-cur,"  some- 
times repeated,  and  it  means  "  Look  out 
there."  It  is  uttered  rapidly. 

I  noticed  one  night  that  the  crow  in  the  tree, 
as  soon  as  he  saw  me,  called  out,  "  Caw-caw," 
and  in  a  short  time  repeated  the  call.  He  had 
told  his  mates  that  the  hermit  was  coming. 
My  path  passed  within  fifty  feet  of  the  crows, 
but  they  did  not  fly  away.  They  had  long 
ago  found  that  I  was  not  to  be  feared.  Some- 
times I  had  company,  and  the  sentinel  would 
then  give  the  danger-call,  "  Cur-cur-cur,"  and 
the  crows  would  fly  away  before  we  got  in 
sight.  I  had  this  experience  throughout  the 
summer,  so  there  could  be  no  mistake. 
148 


THE    CROW 

This  fall  a  young  crow  became  quite  fa- 
miliar. He  would  call  to  me  in  the  woods, 
"  Caw-caw,"  and  often  fly  near  me.  The  old 
crows  seemed  to  think  he  was  in  danger,  or 
they  thought  he  was  departing  from  the  ways 
of  the  fathers,  and  they  always  drove  him 
away.  They  would  beat  him  with  their  wings 
until  he  was  forced  into  flight  to  save  himself. 
This  young  crow  had  found  food  in  my  door- 
yard,  and  had  heard  the  older  crows  say  that 
"  Caw-caw  "  was  harmless,  so  he  wanted  to  be 
friendly,  no  doubt  with  an  eye  to  the  food 
supply.  I  experimented  with  this  fellow,  in 
hopes  that  I  could  tame  him,  and  learn  from 
him  and  his  mates  something  of  the  crow  lan- 
guage. 

As  added  to  my  knowledge  of  the  young 
crow  he  proved  to  be  a  failure.  I  am  now 
convinced  that  this  youngster  is  not  of  sound 
mind.  He  utters  the  cry  of  a  young  crow, 
when  calling  for  food,  which  shows  that  he  has 
not  acquired  the  crow  language.  The  only 
exception  to  this  rule  is  when  he  calls  to  me. 
Somehow  he  has  been  taught  by  other  crows 
149 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

that  my  name  is  "  Caw-caw,"  and  whenever  he 
sees  me  he  calls  out  in  an  eager  manner.  Some  • 
Crow  times  he  steals  away  from  his  mates  and  comes 

to  my  dooryard.  The  crows  hear  him  when 
he  calls  to  me,  and  rush  in,  and  with  loud 
cries  drive  him  into  the  woods. 

There  is  another  crow  that  "  gobbles,"  and 
I  have  made  up  my  mind  that  he  is  unable  to 
utter  the  common  cries  of  other  crows. 

A  few  years  ago  I  followed  this  crow  for 
two  days.  Not  a  sound  escaped  him  other 
than  the  loud  gobble.  After  this,  I  saw  many 
things  that  convinced  me  that  the  crow  was 
deaf  and  dumb. 

There  is  another  deaf  and  dumb  crow  about 
four  miles  away.  He  is  located  on  the  line 
between  Gloucester  and  Essex. 

Five  years  ago  a  Mr.  Clark,  a  resident  of 
Gloucester,  told  me  about  the  last-named  crow. 
Mr.  Clark  was  ninety  years  of  age.  He  was 
as  straight  and  vigorous  as  a  young  man,  and 
possessed  a  fund  of  amusing  stories.  He  told 
how,  when  he  went  to  his  farm  and  found  the 
crows  pulling  up  his  grain,  the  sentinel  would 
150 


THE    CROW 

call  out,  "Clark,  Clark,  Clark,"  and  then 
another  crow  would  cry,  "  Bother-the-luck, 
bother-the-luck." 

In  the  winter  months  the  crows  visit  the 
clam-flats  for  food.  A  sentinel  is  sent  down 
to  the  woods,  overlooking  the  flats,  and  when 
the  tide  goes  out,  this  sentinel  returns,  and, 
flying  in  a  circle  above  the  pines,  calls  out 
"  Caw-caw-caw,"  continuing  the  cry  until  he 
has  completed  the  circuit. 

This  cry  can  be  translated  into  "  Come- 
come-come,"  or,  "  Clams-clams-clams."  Any- 
how, the  crows  understand,  and  a  sentinel  flies 
to  a  pine-tree  just  south  of  my  cabin.  An- 
other drops  into  a  Imrge  oak-tree  on  the  hill 
looking  to  the  east.  Two  more  sentinels  seek 
trees  for  observation,  one  near  the  clam-flats. 
The  crow  near  the  flats  calls  out  "  Caw-caw- 
caw,"  which  means  "  All  is  well."  The  next 
sentinel  takes  up  the  call,  and  thus  it  is  car- 
ried to  crows  in  the  woods.  The  latter  fly  to 
the  sentinel-trees,  if  there  is  nothing  to  create 
fear.  If  a  man  should  approach  either  sen- 
tinel with  or  without  a  gun,  the  danger-cry 
151 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

would  be  rapidly  uttered.  This  cry  "  Cur- 
cur-cur,"  is  usually  quickly  repeated,  and  the 
crows  rush  to  the  shelter  of  the  pines. 

Like  human  beings,  crows  have  courts  of 
justice.  The  jury,  however,  tries,  convicts, 
and  punishes  the  criminal.  Sometimes  I  have 
witnessed  these  trials.  Once,  while  sitting 
under  a  sentinel- tree,  I  saw  six  crows  flying 
across  the  swamp,  headed  for  the  tree.  Five 
of  the  crows  were  striking  at  one  crow  that 
was  evidently  trying  to  escape.  When  the 
crows  reached  the  tree,  the  criminal  was  sur- 
rounded by  the  others.  This  was  not  to  his 
liking,  and  he  flew  to  an  upper  limb.  One  of 
the  crows  said  something  to  him,  and  he  an- 
swered in  a  loud,  defiant  tone.  For  ten  min- 
utes the  trial  went  on.  Each  crow  had  some- 
thing to  say,  while  the  criminal  replied  in  the 
most  aggressive  style.  At  last  the  criminal 
seemed  to  be  convicted,  when  he  flew  away 
with  a  string  of  caws  that  doubtless,  in  crow 
language,  meant,  "  Go  to  hades,  the  whole 
blooming  lot  of  you."  One  old  crow  shouted 
"  Car-r-r-r-r,"  as  much  as  to  say,  "  I  told  you 
152 


THE    CROW 


as  they  disappeared  in  the  deep  woods  beyond 
the  swamp,  they  were  making  it  extremely 
warm  for  him.  I  do  not  know  how  the  matter 
ended,  but  I  am  satisfied  that  the  bad  crow 
received  severe  punishment. 

I  have  read  in  books  relating  to  natural 
history,  that  crows  are  in  the  habit  of  play- 
ing games.  I  can  only  say  from  my  obser- 
vation that  crows  take  life  very  seriously.  I 
have  seen  nothing  like  play  in  a  lifetime  of 
careful  watching. 

Courting  is  a  serious  business.  The  male 
rushes  at  his  intended,  mauling  her,  while  he 
utters  loud  cries,  in  which  he  rolls  his  r's  in 
the  most  approved  stage  style.  When  he  has 
forced  the  young  lady  to  say  "  yes,"  they 
are  mated  for  life.  Then  he  becomes  tender 
in  his  attentions.  He  will  sit  for  a  half -hour 
or  more,  singing  the  crow  love-song.  It  is 
not  much  of  a  song,  but  it  is  the  best  he  can 
do.  He  draws  his  beak  down  to  his  breast 
while  he  utters  liquid  notes  that  remind  one 
of  the  suction  of  a  wooden  pump. 
153 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

This  spring  the  kingbirds  returned  to 
Bond's  Hill,  and  I  hope  they  will  nest  near 
by.  If  they  do,  the  crows  and  hawks  will  have 
to  walk  Spanish.  Last  season  the  crows  de- 
stroyed many  birds'-nests  in  the  woods  in  the 
immediate  vicinity  of  my  cabin.  One  pair  of 
robins  had  four  nests  looted.  Only  two  towhee- 
buntings  were  reared,  and  two  nests  of  the 
chestnut-sided  warbler  escaped.  The  destruc- 
tion in  so  small  an  area  shows  how  fearful 
the  havoc  must  be  on  a  large  territory. 

If  the  kingbirds  do  not  nest  near  by,  I  shall 
continue  the  study  of  the  crow  at  the  muzzle 
of  the  shotgun,  in  defence  of  the  song-birds 
that  inhabit  the  woods  around  me. 

Those  that  praise  the  crow  can  have  but 
little  knowledge  of  his  destructive  habits. 

I  sleep  in  the  open  air  eight  months  of  the 
twelve,  and  the  crows  awake  me  each  morning 
before  it  is  fairly  light.  For  a  half-hour  or 
more  they  keep  up  a  conversation  in  the  crow 
language.  They  seem  to  be  debating  and 
laying  out  a  programme  for  the  day. 

They  must  have  a  crow  almanac,  for  they 
154 


THE    CROW 

know  all  about  the  tides.  If  the  tide  is  out 
in  the  morning  they  seek  the  clam-flats  with- 
out a  report  from  a  scout.  At  this  early  hour 
they  make  the  flight  without  posting  sentinels. 
If  it  is  high  water  they  go  down  to  the  sea- 
shore to  see  what  the  tide  has  brought  in. 

It  is  generally  supposed  that  crows  utter 
but  one  note,  or  cry,  a  loud  caw.  The  fact 
is  the  crow  language  is  not  confined  to  one 
note,  for  "  ker "  is  heard  as  frequently  as 
"  caw." 

The  cries  of  the  crow  can  be  modulated  to 
express  many  of  the  feelings  common  to  the 
human  voice. 

In  the  old  times,  when  I  killed  crows  right 
and  left,  I  often  threw  dead  birds  into  my 
cabin  dooryard.  If  a  crow  passed  over,  his 
sharp  eyes  always  discovered  his  dead  com- 
rades, and  he  would  immediately  circle  above 
the  bodies,  repeating  several  times  a  cry, 
"  ker-r-r-r,"  which  most  vjvidly  expressed 
horror  and  indignation. 


155 


IX. 
LIFE    IN   THE   WOODS 

THE  first  years  of  my  hermit  life  were 
passed  rambling  the  woods  of  Ward  Eight, 
Rockport,  Essex,  and  Manchester.  I  bought  a 
double-barrel  shotgun,  not  on  account  of  the 
game  to  be  found  in  the  woods,  but  because 
I  was  told  of  the  wonderful  duck  shooting  in 
Ipswich  Bay. 

For  three  years  there  was  a  great  supply 
of  acorns,  and  gray  squirrels  swarmed  in  the 
woods  of  the  Cape.  The  next  four  years 
were  years  of  famine  to  all  animal  life  that 
depended  on  acorns.  The  gray  squirrels  died 
off  by  hundreds,  and  the  second  year  the 
most  of  the  survivors  migrated.  Two  years 
ago  there  was  a  great  crop  of  sweet  acorns, 
and  some  of  the  gray  squirrels  returned.  As 
156 


LIFE    IN    THE    WOODS 

last  year  was  a  nut  year  for  bitter  acorns,  the 
squirrels  would  have  become  plentiful  if  it 
had  not  been  for  the  gunners. 

Ward  Eight  has  been  cursed  by  a  State 
law.  Rockport  and  the  seven  wards  of 
Gloucester,  on  the  east  side  of  Annisquam 
River,  and  the  town  of  Essex  on  the  west, 
were  given  a  close  time  on  all  kinds  of  land 
game  for  five  years.  Ward  Eight  was  the 
only  outlet  for  the  gunners  in  a  population 
of  forty-five  thousand.  Every  living  thing 
wearing  fur  or  feathers  was  shot  at,  song  and 
insectivorous  birds  as  well  as  lawful  game. 
Almost  total  extermination  has  been  the  re- 
sult of  this  unwise  legislation. 

One  of  my  first  ventures  was  a  flower  gar- 
den. I  had  trailed  a  few  vines  over  the  cabin, 
and  had  planted  a  small  bed  of  favorite 
garden  flowers.  The  summer  visitors  offered 
to  buy  the  flowers,  and  I  saw  an  opening  for 
another  year.  I  cleared  away  a  small  spot 
for  a  garden,  and  made  me  a  hotbed,  so  the 
next  year,  and  for  the  seven  following  years, 
I  drove  a  thriving  trade  in  cut  flowers.  This 
157 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

flower  business  did  not  leave  me  much  time 
for  gadding  the  woods. 

The  care  and  sale  of  flowers,  and  my  last 
trip  to  Ipswich  Bay,  decided  me  to  discard 
my  gun.  The  study  of  the  wild  things  at 
t%e  muzzle  of  a  shotgun  did  not  give  me  the 
satisfaction  I  thought  I  could  obtain  in  some 
other  way.  I  found  the  Bay  shooting  was 
expensive,  and  the  birds,  which  were  mostly 
coots,  were  not  edible  so  far  as  I  was  con- 
cerned. 

My  last  trip  to  Ipswich  Bay  convinced  me 
that  I  did  not  care  for  such  unsatisfactory 
dangerous  sport.  I  had  engaged  a  young 
man,  and  he  had  hired  a  gunning  boat  and 
decoys  for  one  day.  We  embarked  at  the 
Cut  Bridge  about  midnight.  We  rowed 
down  the  stream,  and  at  daylight  crossed  the 
bar  at  the  mouth  of  the  river.  While  we  were 
crossing  the  bar  I  saw  several  boats  return- 
ing. I  hailed  the  nearest  to  find  out  why 
they  were  coming  back.  "  Too  much  wind," 
was  the  answer. 

I  should  have  turned  back  with  the  crowd, 
158 


LIFE    IN    THE    WOODS 

but  like  most  any  other  tenderfoot,  I  did 
not  understand  the  danger.  We  anchored 
in  the  Bay,  and  put  out  our  decoys.  I  was 
pleased  to  see  that  we  had  the  shooting  to 


COOT'S    HEAD 

ourselves.  Not  a  boat  was  in  sight.  I  shot 
two  ducks,  and  we  slipped  our  anchor  and 
picked  them  up  inside  of  five  minutes.  When 
we  essayed  to  return  to  our  decoys,  I  found 
that  the  wind  was  kicking  up  a  rough  sea. 
159 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

I  think  we  were  over  an  hour  getting  back 
to  the  decoys.  After  this  the  wind  increased, 
and  the  choppy  sea  begun  to  look  ugly.  The 
boat  took  in  water,  and  we  realized  that  we 
were  in  danger  of  being  swamped  at  any 
moment.  The  young  man  wanted  to  leave 
the  anchor  and  decoys,  and  make  for  the 
bar.  I  was  ready  to  go,  but  refused  to  leave 
the  decoys.  I  knew  that  I  would  have  them 
to  pay  for,  and  there  was  a  good  reason  for 
taking  them  on  board:  they  would  help  to 
keep  the  boat  afloat.  The  young  fellow 
bailed  the  boat,  while  I  pulled  in  the  decoys. 
We  got  under  way,  and  for  two  hours  we  had 
all  we  could  do  to  keep  our  boat  from  going 
ashore  on  the  rocks.  We  did  not  get  to  the 
bar.  At  the  end  of  two  hours  there  came  a 
lull  in  the  wind,  and  we  gradually  worked  the 
boat  toward  the  bar.  When  we  saw  a  big 
wave  coming,  we  swung  the  boat  bow  on,  and 
thus  kept  from  being  swamped.  After  a  ter- 
rible struggle,  we  crossed  the  bar  and  made 
fast  to  a  boat-landing  in  the  river  just  in 
time  to  escape  from  a  fierce  tornado.  If  we 
160 


LIFE    IN    THE .  WOODS 

had  encountered  such  wind  while  in  the  bay, 
some  other  fellow  would  have  told  this  story. 

I  did  not  get  home  until  after  dark. 
Supper  over,  I  turned  to  my  note-book,  and 
the  record  made  was  a  sorry  one.  Expense 
three  dollars,  without  a  pound  of  meat  that 
I  could  eat,  or  the  memory  of  sport  enjoyed, 
to  offset,  and  besides,  I  had  barely  escaped 
with  my  life. 

This  I  thought  was  due  to  my  love  of  the 
gun.  There  was  another  waste  of  time  which 
I  laid  to  the  door  of  the  gun.  I  would  feel 
uneasy  mornings,  until  at  last  I  would  com- 
promise with  myself,  by  thinking  that  I  would 
go  out  for  two  hours,  and  then  certainly  re- 
turn and  put  away  the  gun.  I  am  sorry 
to  have  to  admit  that  it  was  usually  the  gloom 
of  night  that  sent  me  back  to  the  cabin.  I 
hardly  think  that  the  gun  should  be  held 
wholly  guilty.  My  love  for  nature,  and  the 
keen  enjoyment  of  finding  wild  flowers,  little 
wayward  brooks,  or  huge  masses  of  bed  rock 
hid  away  in  the  deep  recesses  of  the  woods, 
accounted  for  much  of  the  time  spent.  How- 
161 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

ever,  I  sold  my  gun,  and  did  my  hunting  with 
note-book  and  pencil. 

The  pupils  from  the  High  School  botanical 
class  flocked  to  the  woods  about  my  cabin 
in  search  for  flowers  to  identify  and  mount. 

I  was  employed  by  the  parents  of  some 
of  these  pupils  to  gather  specimens  and  tag 
them  with  their  Latin  names.  This  method 
saved  the  pupil  a  lot  of  trouble,  but  it  did 
not  tend  to  advance  the  knowledge  of  botany. 
It  occupied  some  of  my  time  in  the  spring 
months,  and  gave  me  the  pleasure  of  searching 
the  woods  without  thinking  that  I  was  wasting 
my  time. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  during  my 
eighteen  years  of  hermit  life,  I  have  been 
obliged  to  earn  my  living  expenses,  and  to 
feed  the  wild  things  that  come  to  my  cabin 
dooryard  as  well.  Referring  to  my  note-book, 
I  find  that  the  last  item  foots  up  nearly  four 
hundred  dollars,  but  there  are  some  rebates. 
I  mounted  one  raccoon,  many  birds  and 
squirrels,  the  receipts  for  which  lessened  the 
debtor  side  of  the  ledger. 
162 


LIFE    IN    THE    WOODS 


I  find  that  my  note-book  is  filled  with  notes 
on  flowers  and  other  things  besides  birds. 
Early  in  the  spring,  or  at  other  times,  when 
the  frost  was  coming  out  of  the  ground,  I 
noticed  that  the  stones,  or  small  rocks,  in  the 
grassy  highway  did  not  fit  their  beds.  There 
would  be  a  space  around  each  stone ;  the  width 
of  the  space  would  be  gauged  by  the  shape 
of  the  stone.  If  the  stone  was  conical,  the 
space  would  be  quite  noticeable.  If  round, 
the  space  was  much  smaller.  I  suppose  the 
cause  was  expansion,  owing  to  the  freezing 
of  the  ground.  It  was  the  water  in  the 
ground  that  expanded,  carrying  the  dirt  and 
rocks  with  it.  Under  the  influence  of  a  thaw, 
the  rocks  dropped  back  to  their  beds,  leaving 
a  space  because  the  part  of  the  rock  above  the 
ground  is  almost  always  smaller  than  the 
part  underground.  That  is,  a  rock  stands 
on  its  base  and  not  on  its  apex. 

Another  thing  that  has  puzzled  me  is  the 
behavior  of  dead  pine-limbs.  One  would  sup- 
pose a  dead  limb  ought  to  remain  decently 
quiet  and  not  move  about  like  some  living 
163 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

thing.  I  had  occasion  to  make  a  path  through 
a  thick  growth  of  small  pines.  The  dead  limbs 
extended  on  each  tree  from  the  ground  to 
a  height  of  ten  feet.  I  broke  off  the  limbs 
so  I  could  pass  under  them  without  trouble. 
After  the  path  was  completed,  it  turned  cold 
for  two  days.  When  I  undertook  to  pass 
that  way  during  the  cold  spell,  the  dead  limbs 
were  so  much  depressed  that  I  was  obliged  to 
break  the  path  anew. 

I  experimented  on  dead  limbs  at  different 
times,  and  found  it  was  a  fact  that  lifeless 
pine-limbs  will  fall  in  cold  and  rise  in  warm 
weather.  I  am  unable  to  give  a  reason  for 
this  movement. 

On  my  way  to  the  city,  the  first  wild  flower 
to  greet  me  in  the  spring  is  the  snowy  white 
bloom  of  the  shadbush,  or  June-berry,  as  it  is 
called  here.  It  grows  in  great  masses  all  along 
the  old  highway.  Bond's  Hill  is  pretty  well 
covered  with  a  variety  unknown  to  any  botany. 
I  have  referred  this  variety  of  theAmelan- 
chier  to  some  of  our  professors  in  botany.  I 
suppose  in  time  it  will  find  its  place  in  the 
164 


LIFE    IN    THE    WOODS 


botanical  works.  It  grows  like  the  dwarf 
blueberry,  fruiting  when  less  than  a  foot  in 
height.  Some  patches  of  this  low  variety 
cover  two  square  rods  or  more. 

After  the  shadbush  is  in  full  bloom,  the 
other  early  wild  flowers,  that  grow  beside  the 
old  road,  come  into  bloom  in  rapid  succession. 
As  I  pass  along  to  or  from  the  city,  I  see 
in  the  distance  patches  of  white  which,  if  I 
did  not  know  better,  would  lead  me  to  think 
that  I  had  discovered  some  beautiful  low  white 
flower.  When  I  reach  the  spot  I  find  it  is 
spring  everlasting  (Antennaria  plant  agini- 
folia).  I  give  the  scientific  name  of  this  in- 
significant flower,  because  every  spring  scores 
of  woodland  ramblers  bring  it  to  me  and  ask 
its  name.  Early  in  the  spring  the  flower  is 
a  very  good  white,  but  as  the  season  advances, 
it  becomes  a  dirty  greenish  white.  The  stem 
is  cottony  and  the  leaves,  when  young,  are 
covered  with  a  silky  wool.  With  age,  the 
leaves  become  green  above  and  grayish  below. 
One  should  make  its  acquaintance  early  in  the 

165 


Cf)e 

Hermtts  Wild  Friends 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

spring,  before  other  and  better  flowers  be- 
come plentiful. 

There  is  a  clump  of  bushes  near  the  brook 
that  attracts  my  attention  early.  It  is  the 
fly  honeysuckle.  The  pale  green  leaves  ap- 
pear while  other  shrubs  can  boast  only  swelling 
buds.  Later,  its  slender  branches  are  covered 
with  honey-colored  bell-shaped  flowers.  The 
flowers  hang  in  pairs,  and  are  airy  and  grace- 
ful. 

On  a  hillside,  near  the  road,  the  slender  but 
wiry  wild  columbine  swings  its  Chinese  lan- 
terns above  its  humble  neighbors,  the  star- 
flower  and  the  windflower.  Near  Western 
Avenue,  where  the  bed  rock  overlooks  the 
harbor,  the  cliffs  are  white  with  saxifrage. 
Scattered  along  the  old  highway  may  be  found 
the  common  cinquefoil.  Its  yellow  flower 
looks  like  a  strawberry  blossom,  and  straw- 
berry blossom  it  is  to  most  persons.  If  one 
is  in  doubt  let  him  or  her  place  the  two  side 
by  side.  The  strawberry  leaves  are  in  three 
divisions,  while  the  cinquefoil  is  in  five.  The 
stems  of  the  strawberry  are  hairy,  while  the 
166 


LIFE    IN    THE    WOODS 


stems  of  cinquefoil  are  clean,  brown,  and  wiry. 
The  silvery  cinquefoil  grows  all  along  the 
roadsides  of  Western  Avenue,  from  the  Cut 
to  the  drawbridge. 

In  late  spring  and  early  summer  the  vibur- 
nums afford  a  mass  of  bloom  that  makes  the 
old  road  look  like  a  cultivated  shrub  garden. 
Here  the  wild  roses  are  a  blaze  of  color.  I 
do  not  believe  that  there  is  another  spot  on 
earth  where  the  wild  roses  can  compete  with 
those  on  Cape  Ann. 

The  city  end  of  the  old  highway  in  mid- 
summer is  white  with  the  fragrant  bloom  of 
the  sweet  pepperbush.  Then,  too,  the  wild 
orange-red  lily  takes  possession  of  the  road- 
sides and  waste  places. 

It  is  marvellous,  that  for  one  hundred  and 
fifty  years,  this  deserted  old  highway  has 
maintained  an  existence. 

Brave  Old  Road!  You  are  gullied  by 
frost  and  flood;  you  are  worried  by  catbrier 
and  choked  by  brambles.  You  are  cursed  by 
poison-ivy,  and  blessed  by  climbing  wood- 
bine. By  night,  yours  is  the  highway  of  the 
167 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

skunk,  the  weasel,  the  raccoon,  the  fox,  the 
mink,  the  woodchuck,  and  the  rabbit.  By 
day,  the  grouse  and  quail  seek  your  grassy 
spots  for  food,  and  your  tiny  brooks  for 
water.  Birds  of  all  kinds  nest  and  sing  in 
the  shrubby  growth  that  borders  your  road- 
sides. May  you  never  lose  the  wildness,  which, 
for  one  hundred  and  fifty  years,  you  have  res- 
cued from  civilization. 

I  have  mentioned  poison-ivy  and  wood- 
bine. It  is  easy  to  tell  one  from  the  other. 
Poison-ivy  has  three  leaflets,  and  the  wood- 
bine has  five.  When  leafless,  examine  the 
method  of  climbing.  The  stem  of  the  poison- 
ivy  is  covered  thickly  with  fine  rootlets,  while 
the  stem  of  the  woodbine  is  sparingly  supplied 
with  tendrils  by  which  it  clings  and  climbs. 

Thoreau  writes :  "  It  takes  a  savage  or 
wild  taste  to  appreciate  a  wild  apple."  Again, 
"  What  is  sour  in  the  house,  a  bracing  walk 
makes  sweet.  Some  of  these  apples  might  be 
labelled  '  to  be  eaten  in  the  wind.' " 

I  suppose  my  taste  must  be  "  savage  or 
wild,"  for  I  do  appreciate  wild  apples.  I 
168 


LIFE    IN    THE    WOODS 


don't  know  the  wild  apple  that  Thoreau 
describes,  but  those  that  grow  lavishly  in  the 
woods  of  Cape  Ann  are  not  to  be  despised.  I 
think  I  am  safe  in  claiming  that  one-half  of 
the  wild  trees  bear  sweet  fruit.  Many  of  the 
other  half  bear  cooking-apples  as  good,  or 
better,  than  can  be  found  in  most  cultivated 
orchards.  I  know  of  several  trees  that  bear 
fruit  resembling  the  Baldwin  in  color  and 
taste,  and  not  much  inferior  in  size.  In  a 
secluded  spot,  where  a  ledge  on  one  side  and 
a  dense  mass  of  catbrier  on  all  other  sides 
hides  it  from  prying  eyes,  stands  a  wild  apple- 
tree.  Its  fruit  has  no  peer  in  woods  or  or- 
chard. It  is  large,  with  a  thin  skin  greenish- 
yellow  in  color.  To  the  taste  it  is  slightly 
acid,  with  a  rich  spicy  flavor.  Only  three 
wood-folk  know  the  secret  of  this  vild  apple- 
tree.  A  grouse,  a  rabbit,  and  a  hermit.  The 
grouse  nests  just  over  the  ledge,  the  rabbit 
has  a  burrow  underneath  the  mass  of  catbrier, 
and  the  hermit  nests  in  the  open  air,  and  lives 
close  to  Nature,  too. 

Sometimes  farmers  with  orchards  offer  to 
169 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

load  me  with  windfalls,  and  are  incredulous 
when  I  tell  them  that  I  have  an  abundant 
supply  of  apples,  as  good  as  those  on  their 
best  trees.  I  am  the  proud  owner  of  an  or- 
chard as  well  as  the  farmer,  and  my  orchard 
gives  greater  enjoyment.  The  farmer  visits 
his  orchard  to  see  how  the  fruit  is  setting. 
It  is  a  humdrum  affair.  He  walks  down  this 
row  and  up  that,  so  the  inspection  is  soon 
over.  It  takes  me  several  days  to  inspect  my 
orchard,  while  each  night  I  return  loaded 
with  wild  flowers  and  experience.  There  are 
no  stiff  rows  to  follow.  My  orchard  is  laid 
out  without  regard  to  quadrangles  or  tri- 
angles. It  is  Nature's  plan,  engineered  on 
a  grand  scale,  to  supply  the  wants  of  the 
greatest  number  of  her  wild  children,  the 
mice,  rabbits,  grouse,  robins,  quail,  squirrels, 
and  woodchucks. 

Where  cattle  are  pastured  in  the  woods, 
the  evolution  of  an  apple-tree,  as  described 
by  Thoreau,  is  going  on  now  as  it  did  in  his 
day.  During  the  eighteen  years  of  my  hermit 
life  some  of  the  trees  have  emancipated  them- 
170 


LIFE    IN    THE    WOODS 

selves,  and  now  toss  their  branches  above  their 
old  enemies.  The  cattle,  however,  coolly  ap- 
propriate the  fruit  of  the  trees  they  had  so 
persistently  tried  to  browse  to  death. 


171 


X. 

MR.   AND   MRS.    CHEWINK 

IT  was  a  May  morning,  clear  and  warm,  the 
time  was  half -past  five.  It  was  my  breakfast- 
hour  and  a  pert  chickadee  had  just  whistled 
"Tea's  ready,"  to  the  other  birds,  when  I 
heard  in  the  bushes  near  by  a  bird  voice  call 
out  "  Chewink,"  in  answer  to  the  chickadee. 
My  breakfast-table  was  a  dry-goods  box  and 
this  morning  it  was  under  a  pine-tree.  A 
newspaper  served  for  a  table-cloth.  Break- 
fast under  the  pines  was  a  grand  affair,  and 
I  was  sorry  when  a  year  later  I  had  dropped 
the  custom  for  a  breakfast  in  the  city.  When 
I  sat  down  to  breakfast  my  woodland  orches- 
tra was  in  full  swing.  The  musicians  num- 
bered one  song  sparrow,  one  robin,  one  che- 
wink,  or  towhee-bunting,  one  catbird,  three 
172 


MR.    AND    MRS.    CHEWINK 

veeries,  two  wood- thrushes,  and  a  chestnut- 
sided  warbler.  While  I  was  sipping  my 
coffee,  and  reading  in  Thoreau's  "  Maine 
Woods  "  how  to  make  tea  from  wild  stuff,  I 


CHICKADEE. 

again  heard  the  bird  voice  call  out  "  Che- 
wink."  I  looked  up  and  saw  a  female  che- 
wink  on  the  end  of  the  plank  seat,  not  ten 
feet  away.  She  had  hopped  into  sight  and  had 
introduced  herself  by  announcing  her  name. 
173 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

In  some  way,  this  little  wild  bird  had  dis- 
covered that  I  supplied  free  food  to  the  wild 
things,  and  she  had  called  on  me  to  establish 
friendly  relations.  I  threw  a  bit  of  cookie 
to  her  and  it  rolled  to  the  ground.  She  hopped 
down,  found  the  food,  and  ate  it  on  the  spot, 
then  looked  up  for  more.  I  gave  her  another 
piece  which  she  carried  to  the  bushes. 

My  dinner  hour  was  three  o'clock  p.  M.,  two 
meals  instead  of  the  usual  three.  Miss  Che- 
wink  was  on  hand  and  she  was  not  alone.  She 
had  brought  along  two  young  gentlemen, 
who  cared  more  about  showing  their  fine 
clothes  than  they  did  about  eating.  They 
strutted  around  with  their  tails  spread  out  like 
fans,  and  I  was  soon  convinced  that  they  were 
rivals.  The  little  lady  ignored  them  com- 
pletely, while  she  dined  with  me  as  freely  as  if 
she  was  not  a  self-invited  guest. 

I  suppose  it  would  be  the  proper  thing  to 
describe  my  guests.  The  chewink,  or  towhee- 
bunting  is  nearly  two-thirds  the  size  of  a 
robin.  The  male  has  a  coal-black  head,  black 
wings  and  tail.  Below  he  is  white  with  orange 
174 


"I    THREW    A    BIT    OF    COOKIE    TO    HER." 


MR.    AND    MRS.    CHE  WINK 


sides.  His  eyes  are  red  like  the  dove's.  The 
tail  when  spread  is  bordered  with  white.  The 
female  is  a  warm  brown  where  the  male  is 
black,  otherwise  the  sexes  are  alike. 

After  dinner  my  guests  departed.  Later 
I  looked  them  up.  The  female  was  perched 
on  a  horizontal  limb,  while  about  ten  feet 
away  the  two  dudes  strutted  and  spread  their 
wings  and  tails,  in  an  effort  to  affect  the 
choice  of  the  demure  maiden.  For  three  days 
the  rivals  showed  off  before  the  little  lady  in 
brown  and  orange.  The  morning  of  the 
fourth  day  only  two  of  the  birds  came  to 
breakfast.  The  little  lady  had  made  her 
choice,  and  was  now  a  bride.  The  other 
suitor  had  disappeared,  perhaps  to  look  up  a 
second  choice.  Housekeeping  was  a  failure 
with  the  newly  wedded  pair  for  two  years. 
Nest  after  nest  was  looted  by  snakes  until 
the  third  year.  That  year  the  birds  reared 
a  family  of  four.  Mrs.  Chewink  was  very 
industrious,  and  worked  early  and  late  gath- 
ering straws,  rootlets,  and  bits  of  weed- 
stalk  for  a  nest.  Mr.  Chewink  turned  out 
175 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

to  be  a  lazy,  good-for-nothing,  shiftless  fel- 
low. Not  even  a  feather  did  he  carry  to  the 
new  home.  However,  he  had  one  redeeming 
quality,  he  could  sing.  Somehow,  his  song 
seemed  to  fit  into  the  glorious  spring  morn- 
ings, and  the  listener  felt  that  it  was  in  per- 
fect harmony  with  wild  flowers,  with  the 
drowsy  hum  of  insect  life  and  the  tinkling 
notes  of  the  woodland  brook.  When  the 
little  ones  were  out  of  the  shell,  Mrs.  Che- 
wink  had  all  she  could  do  to  supply  their 
wants.  She  carried  bread  from  the  dooryard, 
and  gleaned  bugs  and  beetles  in  the  flower 
garden. 

I  was  deeply  interested  in  the  food  selected 
by  Mrs.  Chewink.  As  for  herself,  she  would 
never  eat  bread  when  she  could  get  cup-cake. 
I  expected  that  she  would  feed  this  favorite 
food  to  her  babies,  and  that  the  sweet  food 
would  kill  them,  or  make  them  sick,  if  no 
more.  I  watched  carefully,  intending  to  re- 
move the  cake  before  the  little  ones  were  in- 
jured. The  morning,  on  which  I  had  pitched 
to  try  the  experiment,  proved  to  be  rainy. 
176 


MR.    AND    MRS.    CHEWINK 

The  wet  grass  and  foliage  made  it  difficult 
for  the  little  mother  to  collect  food,  and  I 
thought  that  that  would  cause  her  to  fall 
back  on  the  cup-cake.  As  soon  as  she  found 
the  cake,  she  stuffed  herself  and  carried  a 
load  to  her  babies.  I  followed,  and  when  I 
had  reached  the  nest  she  was  feeding  the  last 
of  the  cake.  From  what  I  saw,  it  was  evident 
that  she  had  divided  the  food  fairly.  I  re- 
turned to  the  dooryard,  and  Mrs.  Chewink 
followed  me.  She  passed  by  the  cake  to  load 
up  with  bread.  The  next  trip  was  made  up 
of  bread.  The  fourth  and  fifth  trips  were 
gleaned  from  the  flower  garden.  The  sixth 
trip  was  again  made  up  of  cup-cake.  The 
next  trip  she  carried  bread,  and  then  I  re- 
moved the  bread.  When  Mrs.  Chewink  re- 
turned, she  looked  for  bread,  but  did  not  offer 
to  take  cup-cake  in  its  place.  She  flew  to  the 
garden  and  hunted  up  insects.  I  tried  a  great 
many  experiments  with  this  bird,  and  I  found 
that  she  would  not  feed  enough  cup-cake  to 
injure  her  babies.  When  they  were  older  and 
stronger,  she  fed  more  cake  to  them. 
177 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

Here  was  a  little  wild  mother  that  knew 
better  than  to  feed  to  her  babies  food  that 
she  dearly  loved  herself.  How  did  she  know 
that  such  food  would  hurt  them?  Well 
we  know  that  the  wild  things  manage 
their  domestic  affairs  in  a  way  best  suited 
to  their  needs  and  natures.  But  it  is  only 
here  and  there  that  a  human  being  can  gain 
the  confidence  of  the  wild  things  so  far  as 
to  share  the  secrets  o£  their  lives. 

Mrs.  Chewink,  like  many  human  mothers, 
was  overworked  during  the  warm  weather. 
Often  she  would  seek  the  shade  for  a  few 
seconds'  rest.  Her  open  bill  and  drooping 
wings  gave  evidence  of  how  much  she  was 
suffering  from  the  heat.  All  this  time  Mr. 
Chewink  haunted  the  cool,  shady  spots,  and 
left  his  clamorous  family  to  the  care  of  his 
overworked  wife.  The  little  ones  increased  in 
size  very  fast,  and  soon  were  as  large  as  the 
old  ones.  One  morning  Mrs.  Chewink  brought 
the  brood  into  the  dooryard.  I  think  she 
wanted  to  be  near  the  food  supply.  Cer- 

178 


MR.    AND    MRS.    CHEWINK 


tainly  it  lessened  her  labors.  She  had  an- 
other object  in  view,  which  appeared  later. 

Two  weeks  passed,  and  one  morning  Mr. 
Chewink  brought  the  young  birds  to  the  door- 
yard.  I  was  much  worried,  for  I  thought  that 
my  little  pet  had  been  killed.  I  searched  the 
shrub-land  on  the  hill,  and  was  delighted  to 
hear  her  call.  She  was  gathering  material 
for  a  new  nest.  Then  I  understood  why  she 
had  brought  her  family  to  the  dooryard. 
She  had  contemplated  putting  them  under 
the  care  of  her  lazy  husband,  and  she  thought 
that  he  would  not  be  overworked  where  food 
was  so  plentiful. 

The  young  birds  did  not  take  kindly  to 
Mr.  Chewink's  care.  When  they  found  that 
he  was  their  sole  dependence,  they  made  his 
life  miserable.  They  followed  him  with  open 
bills  and  fluttering  wings,  clamoring  for  food. 
Mr.  Chewink  acted  like  a  crazy  bird.  He 
would  fly  round  and  gather  food  and  jab  it 
into  an  open  bill,  often,  in  his  reckless  haste, 
knocking  a  little  one  off  its  feet.  I  pitied 
the  poor  birds,  but  there  was  a  ludicrous  side 
179 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

to  the  whole  affair.  It  proved  that  bird  na- 
ture and  human  nature  are  much  alike. 

A  little  miss,  who  had  come  from  the  city 
with  her  parents,  was  much  interested  when 
I  told  her  that  the  birds  were  Mr.  Chewink's 
babies.  She  looked  on  while  the  babies  clam- 
ored for  food,  and  when  Mr.  Chewink  knocked 
one  of  the  little  ones  over  in  his  rough,  im- 
patient way,  the  sympathetic  miss  cried  out: 
"  Oh,  mamma,  how  cross  he  is !  He  is  just  like 
papa  when  the  baby  cries." 

After  awhile  Mr.  Chewink  changed  his  tac- 
tics. I  think  he  had  grumbled  to  his  wife, 
and  had  threatened  to  let  the  hawks  get  the 
little  beggars,  so  she  told  him  how  to  induce 
them  to  pick  up  their  food.  Mr.  Chewink 
took  the  hint,  and  dropped  food  before  each 
bird,  and  probably  said,  "  Help  yourself  or 
starve."  The  poor  things  did  get  right  down 
hungry  before  they  found  out  that  they  could 
feed  themselves.  Another  feature  of  bird  life 
was  brought  to  my  attention  two  days  before 
the  second  brood  was  hatched  out.  Mr.  Che- 
wink enticed  the  young  birds  away  to  a  bird 
180 


MR.    AND    MRS.    CHEWINK 


resort.  This  resort  is  a  place  where  there  is 
food  and  water,  and  many  birds  that  rear 
two  broods  take  the  first  brood  to  the  spot, 
so  the  mother-bird  can  feed  the  second  fam- 
ily unmolested.  Mr.  Chewink  visited  the  ban- 
ished birds  several  times  each  day.  The  bird 
resort  was  near  a  little  pond  on  my  road  to 
the  city.  One  of  the  young  birds  was  bright 
enough  to  remember  me,  and  intelligent 
enough  to  follow  me  to  the  cabin.  His  father 
found  him  in  the  dooryard,  and  pecked  and 
beat  him  and  drove  him  into  the  bushes.  But 
the  plucky  little  fellow  insisted,  and  remained 
in  spite  of  the  whippings  he  got  from  his 
father.  I  returned  from  the  city  one  after- 
noon, and  found  .a  black  snake  had  swallowed 
the  second  brood,  and  was  sleeping  it  off  on 
a  sunny  patch  of  bed-rock.  I  killed  the  snake. 
The  next  day  the  banished  birds  were  brought 
back. 

Mrs.  Chewink  remained  about  the  dooryard 

most  of  the  time.     She  would  go  after  berries 

with  the  rest  of  the  family,  but  her  stay  was 

short.     At  meal-time  she  would  hop  on  the 

181 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

table  and  look  the  food  over.  If  she  discov- 
ered cup-cake,  she  helped  herself  without  cere- 
mony. After  dinner,  she  would  preen  her 
feathers  standing  on  a  rock  near  where  my 
writing-table  stood.  I  liked  to  have  her  round, 
for  she  seemed  to  be  more  like  a  human  being 
than  a  bird.  After  the  breeding  season  was 
over,  the  old  birds  shed  their  feathers,  and 
sorry-looking 'objects  they  were.  Mr.  Che- 
wink  appeared  to  hate  the  sight  of  his  wife, 
and  he  abused  her  most  unmercifully.  He 
pecked  her,  and  would  not  let  her  eat  until 
he  had  satisfied  his  own  appetite.  At  one 
time,  I  threw  a  bit  of  cooky  to  Mrs.  Chewink, 
and  it  chanced  to  fall  behind  a  box.  While 
she  was  eating  it,  I  heard  the  male  calling 
from  the  bushes,  "  Towhee,  Chewink,"  and 
soon  he  came  flying  into  the  yard,  to  see, 
perhaps,  if  any  dainty  morsels  were  about. 
Mrs.  Chewink  left  her  cooky  and  sauntered 
from  behind  the  box,  as  if  there  was  nothing 
to  eat  in  that  spot.  She  made  a  great  pre- 
tence of  eating  dry  corn  and  flour  bread,  but 
I  don't  believe  the  artful  thing  swallowed  a 
182 


MR.    AND    MRS.    CHEWINK 


morsel.  Mr.  Chewink  was  just  a  bit  suspi- 
cious, and  hopped  toward  the  box,  but  seeing 
his  wife  eating,  he  turned  back  to  investigate. 
When  he  found  she  had  only  common  food, 
he  flew  at  her,  pecked  her  severely,  and  then 
flew  away.  Mrs.  Chewink  returned  at  once 
to  her  cooky.  I  saw  then  that  this  wild  bird 
could  reason.  She  had  exercised  thought  to 
control  action,  with  a  definite  object  in  view. 
The  first  of  November  turned  clear  and  cold. 
There  was  a  hint  of  winter  in  the  air  by  day, 
and  the  nights  were  frosty.  The  chewinks 
lingered  awhile,  but  the  cold  was  too  severe 
for  them,  and  at  last  it  drove  them  south. 
The  next  spring  Mrs.  Chewink  did  not  return. 
Mr.  Chewink  soon  found  a  second  wife.  I 
do  not  know  what  became  of  my  pet.  The 
chewinks  are  shot  in  the  Southern  rice-fields, 
and  it  is  always  uncertain  about  a  particular 
bird  coming  back  in  the  spring.  Association 
with  my  little  bird  for  three  seasons  had  led 
me  to  become  so  attached  to  her  that  her  loss 
really  gave  me  a  heartache. 

Mr.  Chewink  did  not  return  the  next  year, 
183 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

and  I  was  not  a  mourner.  He  was  tame  enough 
to  take  food  from  my  hand,  although  he 
would  not  hop  on  to  the  table,  but  his  dis- 
position made  him  distasteful  to  me.  He 
abused  his  wives  and  children,  and  was  as 
selfish  as  a  hog. 

Last  year  the  chewinks  did  not  rear  a  fam- 
ily, owing  to  the  crows.  The  year  before 
they  were  successful  in  rearing  three  babies 
from  the  first  brood.  The  crows  got  the 
second  brood.  The  intelligence  of  the  young 
birds  have  caused  me  much  surprise.  I  have 
made  it  a  practice,  while  writing  out-doors,  to 
be  well  supplied  with  bird-food.  Usually 
there  is  a  loaf  of  bread  wired  down  in  the 
dooryard,  but  the  birds  will  not  eat  from  it 
if  I  will  throw  to  them  bits  of  cooky,  cup- 
cake, or  doughnut.  The  old  birds  hop  out 
of  the  bushes,  twenty  feet  away,  and  make 
a  peculiar  chuckling  note,  down  in  the  throat, 
to  attract  my  attention.  If  I  throw  food,  they 
scramble  for  it.  They  will  come  to  my  feet 
for  the  food.  When  the  three  babies,  men- 
tioned before,  were  full-grown,  they  were 


MR.    AND    MRS.    CHEWINK 


brought  by  the  old  birds  to  the  bushes  near 
the  dooryard.  The  parents,  both  male  and 
female,  carried  bread,  and  the  food  that  I 
supplied,  to  the  young  birds.  When  all  were 
satisfied,  the  whole  family  flew  away  to  the 
patches  of  huckleberry-bushes.  While  writing 
one  morning,  I  was  surprised  to  see  one  of  the 
young  birds  hop  out  of  the  bushes  to  eat 
from  the  loaf  of  bread.  He  soon  tired  of  the 
bread,  and  hopped  toward  me.  When  he  had 
approached  within  ten  feet,  he  stopped,  and 
made  the  same  notes  in  his  throat  common  to 
the  old  birds  when  attracting  my  attention. 
I  threw  to  him  a  piece  of  doughnut,  which  he 
took  to  the  bushes.  Three  times  he  returned 
for  food.  That  day  the  other  two  went 
through  the  same  performance.  Did  these 
birds  learn  the  trick  by  watching  from  the 
bushes  the  manner  in  which  their  parents 
got  the  sweet  food  from  me?  Or,  did  their 
parents  tell  them  what  to  do?  We  must  re- 
member that  these  little  wild  things  were  only 
a  few  weeks  old,  and  however  we  decide,  it 
appeals  to  us  as  an  exhibition  of  intelligence 
185 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

that  would  be  wholly  impossible  to  a  human 
being  of  the  same  age. 

The   English   sparrow   has   not   found   its 
way  to  my  cabin.     I  suppose  it  is  too  far  in 


ENGLISH    SPARROW. 


the  woods  for  these  city  dwellers.  Some  boys, 
of  a  Sunday,  brought  to  me  a  young  English 
sparrow  which  they  had  rescued  from  a  cat. 
They  found  the  bird  near  the  old  barn  on  the 
hill  just  above  Western  Avenue.  The  bird 
186 


MR.    AND    MRS.    CHEWINK 


was  injured  in  both  wings,  with  body  wounds 
beside.  I  thought  the  bird  was  dead,  and 
placed  it  on  a  seat  near  a  tree.  Shortly,  a 
lady  visitor  said,  "  Your  bird  is  coming  to 
life."  Sure  enough,  he  had  got  on  to  his 
feet,  but  was  sadly  crippled.  I  gave  him 
some  crumbs,  and  he  ate  a  hearty  meal.  It 
was  evident  that  he  did  not  intend  to  starve 
to  death  if  he  could  get  food.  That  night 
he  hopped  over  to  the  cabin  and  climbed  the 
banking  to  where  he  could  get  into  a  barberry- 
bush.  He  could  not  move  his  wings,  but  his 
feet  were  all  right.  The  next  day  he  hopped 
to  me  for  food  and  water.  I  fed  him,  then 
put  him  on  a  rock  where  he  could  find  water 
for  himself.  He  did  not  forget  the  spot.  For 
three  days  he  followed  the  same  methods,  sleep- 
ing in  the  barberry-bush  every  night.  The 
fourth  day,  while  I  was  feeding  him,  an  old 
chewink  hopped  to  the  loaf  of  bread  and 
called  the  sparrow.  The  sparrow  did  not 
respond  at  first,  but  after  awhile  hopped  over 
to  find  out  what  the  chewink  wanted.  He 
seemed  surprised  to  find  the  bread,  and  began 
187 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

at  once  to  help  himself.  The  chewink  called 
him  into  the  bushes.  I  suppose  he  intended 
to  give  him  an  introduction  to  his  family. 
The  next  day  the  sparrow  came  into  the  door- 
yard  alone.  He  made  for  the  bread  and  did 
not  look  at  me.  I  tried  to  catch  him,  but 
he  hopped  into  the  bushes,  apparently  filled 
with  terror.  I  think  that  old  chewink  had 
told  the  sparrow  that  I  was  a  very  bad  man. 
The  old  fellow  might  have  been  jealous,  and 
had  frightened  the  young  sparrow,  so  that 
he  would  fly  from  me  in  wild  alarm.  The  next 
time  the  sparrow  visited  the  yard  the  chewink 
was  with  him.  They  departed  together,  and 
three  days  later  I  saw  the  sparrow  near  the 
old  barn.  He  was  with  other  sparrows,  but 
he  knew  me,  and,  more  than  that,  he  had  lost 
his  wildness.  He  would  eat  from  my  hand. 
It  was  evident  that  the  chewink  had  piloted 
him  three-fourths  of  a  mile  to  his  friends. 
The  sparrow  had  to  hop  all  the  way.  The  old 
chewink  must  have  exercised  much  patience 
to  have  accompanied  the  sparrow  in  such  a 
slow  way.  How  did  the  chewink  know  where 
188 


MR.    AND    MRS.    CHEWINK 

to  take  the  sparrow?  Did  he  do  a  deed  of 
charity  by  restoring  the  lost  one  to  his  friends, 
or  did  he  entice  him  away  for  selfish  purposes  ? 
It  is  barely  possible  that  he  might  think  that 


the  sparrow  would  recover  his  wing  power,  and 
would  go  out  and  bring  in  his  uncles  and  his 
aunts,  so  took  him  out  by  devious  ways  that 
could  not  be  held  in  the  memory. 


189 


XI. 
SOME  OF  THE  WILD  THINGS 

ON  Sunday,  May  30,  1897,  while  the 
church  bells  were  calling  saint  and  sinner  to 
worship  in  the  city  of  Gloucester,  and  a  cat- 
bird's blithe  music,  supplemented  by  the  sil- 
very bells  of  a  veery,  was  calling  me  to  wor- 
ship in  my  cabin  dooryard,  I  turned  to  the 
path  that  leads  to  Magnolia  Swamp. 

Two  years  before,  on  the  west  side  of  the 
swamp,  I  had  discovered  a  woodpecker's  sap 
orchard.  For  two  seasons  I  had  carefully 
noted  the  work  of  the  woodpeckers  in  their 
curious  method  of  tapping  trees,  and  I  de- 
sired now  to  add  to  my  knowledge  by  a  few 
hours  of  observation. 

It  was  a  glorious  morning,  bright  with  sun- 
shine, tempered  by  a  crisp  air.  It  was  one 
190 


"FOUND  HIS  OWLSHIP  ON  A  LOW  LIMB.' 


SOME    OF    THE    WILD    THINGS 


of  the  few  sunshiny  days  rescued  from  a  cold, 
rainy  spring  month.  The  trees  were  forward, 
and  for  the  most  part  covered  with  full-grown 
leaves.  The  white  oaks  were  late,  as  usual, 
their  leaves  were  tiny,  and  at  a  distance  looked 
to  be  a  silvery  gray  in  the  sunshine.  The 
hillsides  west  of  Magnolia  Swamp  were  lighted 
up  by  this  immature  gray  foliage,  while  here 
and  there  the  dark  green  of  the  pines  afforded 
a  pleasing  contrast. 

I  found  the  sap  orchard  deserted.  The 
trees,  red  maples  and  canoe-birches,  were  dead 
or  dying.  The  sapsuckers  and  their  self-in- 
vited guests,  the  humming-birds,  had  drained 
the  life-blood  of  their  helpless  victims.  All 
of  the  maples  were  still  standing,  but  many 
of  the  gray  birches  had  been  broken  off  by 
the  wind  just  below  the  belt  of  punctures. 

While  I  was  searching  for  another  sap  or- 
chard, I  saw  a  barred  owl,  with  something  in 
his  bill,  fly  to  a  grove  of  small  hemlocks.  I 
followed  on  my  hands  and  knees,  and  found 
his  owlship  on  a  low  limb.  Evidently  this  was 
his  breakfast-hour.  The  thing  in  his  bill 
191 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

proved  to  be  a  leopard  frog.  He  was  prepar- 
ing to  swallow  the  frog  by  crushing  the  bones 
of  the  legs  and  joints.  He  did  not  see  me, 
or,  if  he  did,  he  ignored  my  presence,  and 
continued  leisurely  to  prepare  and  swallow  his 
breakfast.  Afterward  he  spent  several  min- 
utes preening  his  feathers  before  settling  down 
for  a  Sunday  nap.  A  pair  of  saucy  chick- 
adees, scouring  the  woods  for  a  Sunday  break- 
fast, discovered  the  owl  and  gave  the  alarm. 
Inside  of  two  minutes  I  counted  thirty-six 
birds,  all  called  together  by  the  cries  of  the 
chickadees.  These  birds  included  cuckoos, 
warblers,  blue  jays,  thrushes,  vireos,  flycatch- 
ers, and  buntings.  How  they  did  jeer  and 
abuse  the  owl,  but  all  were  careful  to  keep  at 
a  safe  distance.  The  blue  jays  seemed  to  be 
filled  with  fury,  and  if  birds  can  swear,  doubt- 
less that  owl  listened  to  some  very  emphatic 
language. 

For  twenty  minutes  that  patch  of  young 
hemlocks  contained  noise  and  life  enough  to 
stock  a  first-class  aviary.     The  owl  seemed 
bored,  but  was  apparently  fearless. 
192 


SOME    OF    THE    WILD    THINGS 

Thirty-two  minutes  after  the  first  alarm, 
all  the  birds  had  disappeared,  excepting  two 
red-eyed  vireos.  The  vireos  continued  to  scold 
vigorously.  The  owl  had  intruded  on  their 
nesting-ground.  Not  twenty  feet  away  a 


OWL    CHASED. 


vireo's  nest  swung  lightly  from  the  horizontal 
limb  of  a  red  beech.  It  seemed  to  me  that  the 
owl  suspected  the  presence  of  the  nest,  for  he 
thrust  out  his  head  and  swung  it  from  side 
to  side  as  if  searching  for  something.  After 
awhile  he  discovered  the  nest,  and  flew  to  the 
193 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

beech  limb.  When  he  had  commenced  to  ap- 
proach the  nest  by  short  hitches  along  the 
limb,  the  vireos  changed  their  scolding  to  cries 
of  alarm.  Immediately  all  the  birds  returned. 
Again  the  owl  was  told  that  he  was  a  robber 
and  a  great  rascal  by  every  bird  in  the  grove. 
As  he  continued  to  approach  the  nest,  I 
thought  it  time  to  interfere.  "  Hold,  there !  " 
I  shouted,  and  the  effect  on  the  owl  was  in- 
stantaneous. He  stopped  short,  crouched  on 
the  limb,  then  twisted  his  impish  face  directly 
into  the  back  of  his  neck,  and  glared  at  me 
with  a  frightened  look  in  his  wide-open  eyes. 
After  a  brief  inspection  he  tumbled  forward 
off  the  limb,  caught  himself  on  his  wings, 
and  floated  as  noiseless  as  a  feather  into  the 
dark  shadows  of  Magnolia  Swamp.  I  ex- 
amined the  vireo-nest  and  found  it  empty  — 
in  fact,  it  was  not  yet  completed. 

It  was  evident,  from  what  took  place,  that 
birds  of  different  species  can  communicate 
with  each  other. 

First,  the  chickadees  call  other  birds  to  the 

194 


SOME    OF    THE    WILD    THINGS 


spot  by  cries  that  certainly  are  understood 
to  mean  danger. 

Afterward,  the  vireos  did  the  same  thing. 
While  the  latter  were  scolding  the  owl,  other 
birds  paid  no  attention,  but  responded  at  once 
to  their  cries  for  help. 

After  the  owl  had  disappeared,  the  birds 
scattered  as  before.  The  blue  jays  and  two 
thrushes  stopped  back  to  interview  me,  and 
find  out  if  my  intentions  were  friendly. 

When  all  the  birds  had  disappeared  except 
the  vireos,  I  went  in  search  of  a  new  sap  or- 
chard. I  soon  found  a  clump  of  red  maples 
containing  two  trees  that  had  been  tapped 
by  woodpeckers.  The  belt  of  punctures  on 
both  trees  was  nearly  a  foot  in  width,  but 
the  woodpeckers  did  not  show  up  during  my 
three  hours'  tarry. 

This  woodpecker,  the  yellow-bellied  (SpTiy- 
ropicus  varius),  does  not  nest  on  the  Cape, 
so  had  doubtless  departed  in  migration,  but 
three  humming-birds  were  fighting  for  the 
sap-buckets,  and  a  red  squirrel  settled  matters 


195 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

by  driving  the  hummers  from  one  tree  to  the 
other. 

The  red  squirrel  was  a  new  feature  in  a 
woodpecker's  sap  orchard.  He  did  not  cling 
to  one  spot,  as  squirrels  do  when  tapping  for 


YELLOW  -  BELLIED   WOODPECKER. 

themselves,  but  instead  moved  rapidly  around 
the  tree,  thrusting  his  tongue  into  the  drills 
for  the  sweet  sap.  I  suppose  the  squirrel 
owned  the  territory  where  the  maple-trees 
grew,  and  was  more  than  willing  that  the 
196 


SOME    OF    THE    WILD    THINGS 

woodpeckers  should  tap  the  trees  for  his  bene- 
fit. 

The  drills  made  by  the  woodpecker  extended 
through  the  outside  bark  and  into  the  cam- 
bium layer.  From  my  observation  with  a  good 
glass,  during  several  seasons,  I  found  that  the 
woodpeckers  were  after  the  elaborated  sap 
that  descends  from  the  leaves,  through  the 
inner  bark,  and  did  not  extend  the  drills  into 
the  wood  where  they  would  reach  the  crude 
sap  flowing  up  from  the  roots.  The  wisdom 
of  this  procedure  was  evident.  The  elaborated 
sap  is  far  richer  in  nutriment  than  the  crude 
sap,  and  the  woodpeckers  knew  more  about 
the  growth  of  trees  than  many  human  beings, 
so  worked  understandingly. 

Each  drill  is  made  deep  enough  to  hold 
about  two  drops  of  sap.  The  upper  drills 
are  the  only  ones  to  afford  sap,  which  proves 
that  it  is  certainly  the  elaborated  sap  flowing 
down  from  the  leaves  that  the  birds  get. 

I  had  read  in  works  on  ornithology  that  the 
woodpeckers  tapped  trees  so  that  the  sap 
would  attract  insects  upon  which  they  could 
197 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

feed.  Also  that  the  birds  were  after  the  soft 
bark,  or  cambium  layer,  for  food. 

While  the  woodpeckers  do  catch  a  fly  now 
and  then,  it  is  evident,  even  to  a  careless  ob- 
server, that  it  is  the  sap  that  is  sought.  I 
have  seen  them  eat  small  pieces  of  the  cambium 
layer,  but  I  think  they  did  so  because  the  soft 
bark  was  soaked  with  sweet  sap. 

The  three  humming-birds  made  that  little 
sunny  glade  in  the  forest  as  lively  as  a  Mex- 
ican fandango.  The  two  males  were  jealous 
of  each  other,  and  both  birds  seemed  desper- 
ately in  love  with  the  demure  maid.  She 
attended  strictly  to  business  by  drinking  from 
the  sap-buckets  left  unguarded  by  the  red 
squirrel.  The  male  hummers  spent  most  of 
the  time  dancing  in  the  air.  They  took  turns 
in  madly  pursuing  each  other;  the  pursued 
never  turned  tail,  but  flew  backward  with  a 
swiftness  that  was  marvellous.  The  buzzing 
of  their  wings  and  their  shrill  cries  furnished 
the  music  for  the  wild  dance. 

The  humming-birds  drink  from  the  drills 
while  poised  in  the  air,  but  often  alight  and 
198 


SOME    OF    THE    WILD    THINGS 

cling  to  the  bark  while  drinking,  the  wings 
closed  and  silent. 

Flies  and  hornets  were  in  evidence,  crawling 
on  the  bark  of  the  maples,  or  flying  around  ^ 

the  drills.  A  hornet  stung  the  squirrel  on 
the  ear.  When  I  left,  the  latter  was  shaking 
his  head  and  telling  the  hornets  what  he 
thought  of  them. 

When  I  returned  to  the  cabin,  I  found  a 
pair  of  catbirds  in  trouble.  They  nested  in  V* 

a  dense  mass  of  shrubbery  about  eighty  feet 
from  the  dooryard.  The  male  catbird  met  ^f 

me  some  distance  from  the  nest,  and  by  his 
excited  cries  I  knew  that  some  bird  enemy  . 

was  near  at  hand.     When  I  came  in  sight  of  ^ 

the  nest  I  discovered  the  trouble.  A  black 
snake  was  making  his  way  through  the  bushes  ty 

toward  the  nest,  and  the  mother-bird  was 
waging  a  fierce  but  fruitless  battle.  Jl*  |£ 

I  killed  the  snake,  which  was  over  five  feet 
in  length.  The  nest  contained  four  eggs. 
For  the  time  being  they  were  safe. 

In  due  time  the  nest  contained  four  baby 
catbirds.      One   moonlight   night,  ^about  ten 
199 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

o'clock,  there  was  a  great  outcry  from  the 
old  catbirds.  I  had  gone  to  bed,  in  my  ham- 
mock, in  the  open  air,  with  but  a  roof  over  me 
to  keep  off  the  rain,  so  I  could  hear  the  birds 
and  knew  that  they  were  fighting  to  save  their 
little  ones.  Before  I  could  go  to  the  rescue, 
one  of  the  catbirds  flew  to  the  bushes  within 
three  feet  of  my  head,  and  frantica^y  called 
to  me  for  help.  When  I  came  in  sight  of  the 
nest  I  saw  a  snake  drop  to  the  ground.  One 
of  the  young  catbirds  was  missing.  A  hurried 
search  beneath  the  bushes  in  the  dim  light 
was  unsuccessful.  The  snake  had  silently  and 
swiftly  disappeared  with  his  victim. 

The  old  catbirds  were  pets  of  mine  of  sev- 
eral years'  standing,  and  the  tragic  fate  of  the 
baby-bird  caused  me  to  try  to  save  the  other 
three.  I  removed  the  nest  and  placed  it  in 
a  covered  box  in  the  cabin.  The  catbirds 
followed  me  to  the  cabin  door,  but  made  no 
protest.  The  next  morning  before  sunrise 
the  birds  awoke  me  by  their  cries.  When  I 
was  dressing  they  spent  the  time  flying  to  and 
fro,  from  cabin  to  hammock,  calling  to  me  to 
200 


SOME    OF    THE    WILD    THINGS 

hurry  up  and  bring  out  their  babies.  Both 
birds  had  insects  in  their  bills.  I  did  not 
take  the  nest  to  the  old  spot,  but  instead  placed 
it  in  a  clump  of  bushes  near  the  cabin.  When 
I  had  secured  the  nest,  the  old  birds  gave  the 
three  babies  their  breakfast.  This  programme 
was  followed  day  after  day,  until  the  young 
birds  we'e  old  enough  to  fly. 

About  two  hundred  visitors  one  Sunday  in- 
spected the  nest,  and  the  old  birds  did  not 
make  a  protest  or  show  fear.  They  knew  that 
I  would  protect  their  little  ones.  A  clear  case 
of  bird  intelligence. 

Returning  from  the  city,  while  the  catbirds 
were  rearing  their  young,  I  heard  a  great 
outcry  from  a  number  of  birds  in  the  cabin 
dooryard.  At  first  I  thought  some  bird  enemy 
had  destroyed  the  young  catbirds,  but  I  found 
them  all  right.  Just  over  the  wall  in  the 
bushes  was  a  nest  of  the  veery.  This  nest 
was  in  ruins.  That  morning  it  had  contained 
four  newly  hatched  birds.  While  I  was  ex- 
amining the  nest,  one  of  the  catbirds  flew  to 
a  bush  near  me,  and  raised  an  outcry  to 
201 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

attract  my  attention.  I  spoke  to  the  bird, 
and  immediately  it  flew  to  the  old  wall  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  road.  I  went  over,  and 
saw  the  tail  of  a  black  snake  hanging  from  the 
Hunting  wall.  I  firmly  grasped  the  tail,  but  could 
not  pull  the  snake  from  between  the  rocks. 
I  thought  of  a  plan  to  get  the  reptile  out. 
I  pushed  the  tail  into  the  wall,  and  when  the 
snake  had  loosened  his  hold,  by  a  strong  pull 
I  could  gain  a  few  inches.  Twenty  minutes' 
hard  work  brought  the  snake  out  so  I  could 
grasp  him  by  the  neck.  He  coiled  around  my 
arm  with  such  power  as  to  stop  the  circulation. 
It  reminded  me  of  a  wire  rope  tightened  by 
machinery.  I  unwound  the  coils  and  took 
my  captive  to  a  large  dry-goods  box.  I  made 
a  cage  out  of  another  box  by  putting  wire 
netting  over  the  top.  I  placed  the  box  on  its 
side  on  some  stakes,  and  introduced  the  snake. 
He  tried  every  inch  of  that  box  and  netting 
for  means  of  escape.  Two  hours  later  he 
settled  down  for  a  good  long  sleep,  and  when 
he  awoke  he  appeared  contented.  I  offered 
him  food,  but  he  would  not  eat.  For  a  month 
202 


"HE    COILED    AKOVND    MY    ARM.' 


SOME    OF    THE    WILD    THINGS 

he  did  not  eat  or  drink.  I  noticed  that  his 
skin  was  loose  in  patches.  It  was  a  month 
before  the  regular  time  for  the  black  snake 
to  shed  its  skin,  but  it  was  evident  that  this 
interesting  event  was  about  to  take  place.  I 
put  some  rough  rocks  in  the  cage,  and  the 
snake  pulled  himself  between  them  in  such 
a  way  as  to  pull  off  the  old  skin.  Before  this, 
the  snake  was  totally  blind.  He  shed  the  skin 
over  his  eyes,  and  his  sight  was  restored. 
Shortly  after  he  had  shed  his  skin  he  glided 
to  the  front  of  the  cage  and  opened  his  mouth. 
I  took  this  to  mean  food,  and  gave  him  a 
frog,  which  he  swallowed.  After  this,  when- 
ever he  was  hungry,  he  would  look  at  me  with 
his  mouth  open.  This  snake  was  six  feet  and 
two  inches  in  length,  and  large  accordingly. 
His  muscular  power  I  had  tested,  and  had 
found  it  to  correspond  to  his  size. 

It  is  singular  how  many  persons  there  are 
that  think  a  snake's  tongue  is  a  stinger.  My 
snake  would  run  his  tongue  through  the  wire 
mesh,  and  sometimes  I  would  touch  it  with 
a  finger.  At  such  times,  the  most  of  the 
203 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

visitors  present  would  cry :  "  Look  out,  he'll 
sting  you ! " 

My  snake  proved  to  be  fond  of  music. 
Evenings  I  would  play  on  the  flute,  while  he 
would  come  to  the  front  of  his  cage  and  listen. 
Some  tunes  would  excite  him  so  he  would 
glide  about  the  cage.  The  Swiss  Waltz  would 
always  set  him  a-going.  Shrill,  discordant 
notes  would  send  him  to  the  darkest  spot  in  his 
cage,  where  he  would  coil  and  remain  so  quiet 
as  to  appear  lifeless.  On  the  approach  of 
cold  weather  the  snake  became  torpid,  and  he 
was  killed. 

Some  years,  snakes,  of  all  kinds  indigenous 
to  this  climate,  are  numerous  enough  to  des- 
troy the  nests  of  the  small  birds.  Therefore 
I  kill  the  snakes  that  are  bird-hunters,  because 
I  prefer  birds  to  snakes.  I  have  found  that 
some  snakes,  that  come  to  my  dooryard  for  my 
pets,  are  so  crafty  as  to  make  it  nearly  im- 
possible to  kill  them.  A  big  black  snake  often 
came  down  the  hill  to  the  cabin,  and  when  he 
had  reached  a  boulder  he  would  look  around 
to  see  if  I  was  there  writing.  This  snake  had 
204 


SOME    OF    THE    WILD    THINGS 

a  saucy,  independent  way  of  looking  at  me, 
as  much  as  to  say,  "  Are  you  the  hermit  ?  " 
A  movement  on  my  part  toward  a  club  sent 
the  snake  into  the  bushes.  Throughout  one 
season  I  tried  my  best  to  kill  that  black  snake 
without  success.  The  next  year  he  did  not 
appear.  Very  few  snakes  came  out  of  winter 
quarters  that  spring. 

Another  black  snake  had  determined  to 
swallow  a  pet  toad.  The  toad  was  a  monster, 
and  had  escaped  several  times,  but  his  hind 
legs  were  badly  scarred.  The  toad  would 
come  to  me  for  protection.  Usually  he  would 
hop  on  to  my  feet  when  pursued.  The  snake 
was  too  crafty,  to  come  near  enough  for  me  to 
use  my  snake-club.  I  was  telling  some  visitors 
from  the  city  about  the  toad  and  snake,  when 
one  young  lady  expressed  a  strong  desire  to 
see  a  live  snake.  While  we  were  talking,  I 
heard  the  toad  cry  out,  and  I  knew  that  the 
snake  was  after  him.  I  told  my  visitors  to 
keep  quiet  and  they  would  see  the  toad  come 
to  me  for  protection.  The  young  lady  that 
wanted  to  see  a  live  snake  gathered  up  her 
205 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

skirts  and  fled  down  the  old  highway.  The 
toad  came  in  sight,  dragging  the  snake,  which 
was  clinging  to  a  hind  leg.  When  the  snake 
saw  us,  he  dropped  his  hold  but  did  not  re- 
treat. The  toad  hopped  on  to  my  feet,  nearly 
exhausted.  The  snake  must  have  been  made 
bold  by  hunger,  for  he  made  a  rush  for  the 
toad.  My  snake-club  was  near  at  hand,  and 
he  was  soon  killed.  The  young  lady  that  fled 
would  not  return  until  fully  convinced  that  the 
snake  was  dead.  She  did  not  see  the  snake 
when  he  was  alive,  for  she  fled  when  I  said 
one  was  coming. 

A  garter-snake  made  a  home  beneath  my 
cabin.  He  was  too  small  to  injure  birds,  so 
I  did  not  disturb  him.  He  became  very  tame 
during  the  summer.  His  hole  was  under  the 
door  of  my  cabin.  I  could  sit  in  the  door- 
way, and  when  he  was  passing  in  or  out,  he 
would  stop  for  me  to  rub  his  head.  The  second 
year  he  had  increased  in  size.  There  was  a 
chestnut-sided  warbler's  nest  near  the  cabin, 
containing  young  birds.  I  heard  cries  of  dis- 
tress from  the  old  birds,  and  when  I  investi- 
206 


SOME    OF    THE    WILD    THINGS 

gated,  found  the  garter-snake  trying  to  get 
at  the  nest.  I  struck  him  with  a  small  stick, 
and  he  hid  in  the  weeds.  That  blow  severed 
his  friendship  for  me.  If  he  returned  to  the 
cabin  and  saw  me  in  the  doorway,  he  would 
retreat  until  the  coast  was  clear.  Twice  more 
I  caught  him  at  the  birds'  nest.  He  escaped 
each  time.  He  must  have  come  to  the  con- 
clusion that  I  was  protecting  the  birds  for 
my  own  eating,  for  he  left  them  after  that. 
The  next  year  he  ate  a  pet  frog  and  robbed 
several  bird's  nests.  He  had  moved  to  an  old 
stone  wall,  and  did  most  of  his  hunting  by 
night.  He  tried  to  loot  a  catbird's  nest,  but 
the  birds  gave  the  alarm,  and  the  moon  helped 
me  to  find  the  marauder.  One  blow  and  it 
was  all  over.  It  would  have  been  pleasant  to 
study  this  snake,  but  I  could  not  allow  my 
pet  birds  to  be  so  cruelly  persecuted. 


207 


XII. 
Cow-bird  THE   INSTINCT   OF   THE   COWBIRD 

THE  books  on  ornithology  tell  us  that  the 
cowbird  (Molothrus  ater)  is  a  common  summer 
resident  of  New  England,  without  regard  to 
locality.  However  true  this  may  be  as  to  other 
parts,  it  is  a  fact  that  the  bird  was  unknown 
to  me  in  Penobscot  County,  Maine. 

Cowbirds  are  summer  residents  of  Cape 
Ann,  and  I  have  studied  their  habits  for  years. 
I  commenced  by  requiring  answers  to  the  fol- 
lowing questions: 

Why  do  birds,  when  victimized,  rear  the 
young  cowbird? 

Why  does  the  young  cowbird  desert  its  fos- 
ter parents  to  associate  with  its  own  kind? 

Why  do  young  cowbirds  lay  eggs  in  other 
208 


THE    INSTINCT    OF    THE    COWBIRD 

birds'  nests,  instead  of  building  nests  for 
themselves  ? 

How  did  the  cowbird  acquire  this  unnatural 
habit? 

Writers  on  the  subject  usually  answer  the 
first  question  by  the  term  "  stupidity,"  and  the 
other  three  by  the  word  "  instinct." 

In  all  my  life  I  have  never  found  the  birds 
stupid.  They  are  as  intelligent  as  to  the  re- 
quirements of  bird  life  as  man  is  as  to  the 
requirements  of  human  life. 

The  theory  of  instinct  is  only  a  dream  of 
the  uninitiated.  Nature's  children  are  never 
troubled  by  such  nightmares. 

The  most  of  our  bird  books  have  the  ear- 
marks of  the  library.  An  author  may  be 
familiar  with  a  few  birds  studied  afield,  but 
the  greater  number  are  studied  in  the  library. 
Take  the  cowbird  as  an  example.  One  author 
after  another  rings  in  the  same  old  chestnut 
about  the  disreputable  bird  that  lays  its  eggs 
in  other  birds'  nests  and  deserts  its  offspring. 
These  authors  wind  up  by  calling  attention 
to  the  wonderful  instinct  that  causes  the  young 
209 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 


cowbird  to  desert  its  foster-parents  to  associate 
with  its  kind.  I  will  say  now,  that  long  be- 
fore I  had  the  opportunity  to  study  the  bird, 
I  did  not  believe  it  possible  for  a  young  bird, 
by  its  own  knowledge,  to  hunt  up  and  associate 
with  birds  of  its  kind.  That  would  be  a 
miracle,  and  the  days  of  miracles  are  passed. 
In  my  study  of  birds  I  have  found  that  old 
birds  educate  the  young,  and  I  knew  that  the 
young  cowbird  was  piloted  by  its  mother,  or 
the  foster-parents  turned  it  over  to  its  kind 
to  be  rid  of  incumbrances.  Few  writers 
have  studied  the  cowbird  through  the  nesting 
season.  Mr.  John  Burroughs  writes  that  he 
found  small  eggs  in  the  path  that  had  two 
pricks  in  the  shell.  Afterward  he  detected 
the  cowbird  removing  an  egg  from  a  bird's 
nest.  Mr.  Burroughs  intimates  that  the  cow- 
bird  did  this  to  deceive  the  owners  of  the  nest. 
They,  finding  the  proper  number  of  eggs, 
would  not  detect  the  fraud.  I  was  sincerely 
grieved  that  a  delightful  writer  on  natural 
history  should  make  such  a  break.  His  in- 
terpretation would  endow  the  cowbird  with  a 
210 


THE    INSTINCT    OF    THE    COWBIRD 

keen  reasoning  power,  and  would  make  chumps 
of  the  others ;  too  senseless  to  know  their  own 
eggs.  In  my  observations,  when  the  victim- 
ized birds  return  and  find  the  alien  egg,  they 
exhibit  great  distress. 

My  first  study  of  the  cowbird  happened 


w 


BLUE -WINGED     YELLOW    WAHBLER. 

in  an  unexpected  manner.  I  was  watching 
the  nest  of  a  pair  of  yellow  warblers  (Den- 
droica  (estiva)  that  contained  two  eggs.  While 
the  owners  were  absent  I  saw  a  cowbird  flutter 
on  to  the  nest  and  add  her  parasite  egg  to 
its  contents.  When  the  yellowbirds  returned 
they  at  once  discovered  what  had  taken  place, 
211 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 


and  acted  as  if  wild  with  alarm  and  distress. 
For  a  half -hour  the  birds  flew  wildly  about, 
uttering  plaintive  cries,  after  which  they  set- 
tled down  on  a  twig,  where  they  could  over- 
look the  nest.  They  now  seemed  less  excited, 
and  were  evidently  holding  a  consultation. 
After  awhile  they  seemed  to  agree  on  a  course 
of  action,  for  the  female  went  on  to  the  nest 
and  the  male  bird  tried  to  sing  away  the 
trouble,  but  I  thought  his  song  less  earnest 
than  usual. 

No  more  eggs  were  laid,  which  was  some- 
what remarkable,  as  the  yellowbird's  number  is 
usually  four. 

I  found  the  young  cowbird  hatched  out 
just  twelve  days  after  the  egg  was  laid.  The 
next  morning  I  found  the  two  yellowbirds 
out  of  the  shell.  When  the  cowbird  was  two 
days  old  he  crowded  both  the  little  birds  out  of 
the  nest.  When  I  found  them,  one  was  dead 
and  the  other  gasping  as  if  fatally  hurt. 
While  I  was  watching  the  latter,  the  mother- 
bird  appeared  with  an  insect.  She  offered  the 
food  to  the  dying  bird,  and  appeared  greatly 


THE    INSTINCT    OF    THE    COWBIRD 

troubled  when  it  was  not  received.  After 
awhile  she  seemed  to  comprehend  that  the  little 
one  could  not  eat,  and  she  fed  the  insect  to  Cow-bird 

the  cowbird.  Before  flying  away,  she  returned 
to  the  gasping  bird,  and  looked  at  it  by  turn- 
ing her  head  from  side  to  side,  while  she  ut- 
tered a  succession  of  low,  plaintive  notes. 

After  this,  both  yellowbirds  had  all  they 
could  do  to  supply  the  black  giant  with  food. 
When  he  was  old  enough  to  fly,  or,  at  least, 
was  completely  feathered,  his  foster-parents 
coaxed  him  out  of  the  nest  after  the  manner 
of  all  bird-kind.  Birds  know  when  their 
young  are  old  enough  to  leave  the  nest,  and 
withhold  food  until  the  little  ones  are  down- 
right hungry,  and  then  tempt  them  out  with 
a  dainty  morsel.  While  tempting  the  young 
cowbird  from  the  nest,  the  yellowbirds  made 
as  much  effort  and  appeared  as  joyous  when 
successful  as  if  the  labor  had  been  performed 
for  their  own  bright-eyed,  pretty  birdlings. 

The  young  cowbird,  when  once  out,  did  not 
return  to  the  nest  for  shelter.     His  growing 
appetite  taxed  the  strength  of  both  birds  to 
213 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

the  utmost.  Every  moment  of  daylight  was 
Cow-bird  occupied  in  catering  to  his  wants.  One  day 

I  missed  the  female  yellowbird,  and,  after  a 
long  search,  found  her  engaged  in  building  a 
new  nest.  She  had  forsaken  her  former 
charge. 

Heretofore  I  have  neglected  to  state  that 
I  often  saw  the  mother  cowbird.  I  think  she 
visited  the  nest  several  times  a  day  after  the 
egg  was  laid.  Her  frequent  visits  had  accus- 
tomed the  young  bird  to  her  presence,  thus 
making  possible  what  followed. 

After  discovering  the  new  nest,  I  looked  up 
the  young  cowbird,  and  found  the  male  yellow- 
bird  feeding  him  as  usual,  but  not  alone.  The 
old  cowbird  was  acting  as  assistant,  as  if  just 
aroused  to  the  responsibility  of  maternal 
duties.  For  several  days  both  birds  fed  the 
young  cowbird,  after  which  the  yellowbird 
spent  much  of  his  time  with  his  mate,  grad- 
ually deserting  his  charge,  to  return  no  more 
when  the  second  brood  was  out. 

Thus  my  observations  had  answered  two 
questions;  my  first  and  second.  My  first 


THE    INSTINCT    OF    THE    COWBIRD 

question,  "  Why  the  victimized  birds  rear  the 
parasite?  "  was  answered  to  my  belief  in  this 
way:  I  believe  that  the  yellowbirds  had  had 
experience  with  cowbirds  before,  and  intelli- 
gently understood  that  they  must  sacrifice 
their  first  brood  in  order  to  raise  a  second 
brood  unmolested.  The  actions  of  the  birds 
when  they  discovered  the  parasite  egg,  their 
great  distress,  their  consultation  and  prompt 
action,  their  neglect  to  lay  the  usual  number 
of  eggs  can  be  construed  in  no  other  light.  It 
is  far  beyond  the  province  of  instinct. 

My  second  question,  "  Why  the  young  cow- 
bird  deserts  its  foster-parents?  "  is  already  in- 
telligently answered.  It  is  no  desertion.  The 
foster  parents  turn  over  the  parasite  to  its  own 
mother,  in  a  matter-of-fact  way,  and  then  go 
about  their  own  affairs  in  peace. 

My  third  question,  "  Why  do  young  cow- 
birds  lay  eggs  in  other  birds'  nests  instead 
of  building  nests  for  themselves?  " 

When  the  cowbird  was  out  of  the  shell,  it 
was  big  and  black.  It  was  my  first  young 
cowbird,  and  I  thought  it  was  a  male.  I 
215 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 


made  it  a  male  in  my  note-book.  While  the 
bird  was  in  the  nest  I  fastened  a  bit  of  copper 
wire  to  its  leg,  and  the  next  spring,  when  it 
returned,  I  found  that  the  bird  was  a  female. 
I  saw  her  with  another  female,  I  think  it  was 
the  mother,  visiting  birds'  nests.  So  the  young 
cowbird  was  educated  to  lay  its  eggs  in  other 
birds'  nests.  Nest-building  is  educational  and 
not  instinctive. 

My  fourth  question  could  not  be  answered 
by  observation. 

How  did  the  cowbird  acquire  this  unnatural 
habit? 

The  answer  to  this  question  is  not  within 
the  province  of  proof.  It  is  fair  to  assume 
that  the  cowbird,  in  the  distant  past,  reared 
its  young  in  a  nest  of  its  own.  It  may  have 
happened  that  some  tragedy  had  deprived 
a  family  of  young  cowbirds  of  their  parents. 
Other  birds  may  have  reared  the  young  ones 
until  they  were  capable  of  providing  for  them- 
selves. In  migration  all  would  remain  to- 
gether, but  when  nesting  begun  the  young 
cowbirds  would  not  be  tolerated  near  a  nest. 
216 


THE    INSTINCT    OF    THE    COWBIRD 

Not  educated  in  nest  building,  the  female 
would  fly  to  other  nests  to  drop  her  eggs. 
Other  cowbirds  may  have  adopted  the  same 
method,  finding  it  pleasant  to  have  the  care 
of  their  babies  shouldered  on  to  servants,  like 
some  human  mothers. 

However,  the  whole  thing  is  mere  specula- 
tion, and  it  is  not  worth  while  to  follow  it 
further. 

A  few  years  ago  a  cowbird  laid  an  egg  in 
a  chewink's  nest.  The  chewink  visited  my 
dooryard.  I  did  not  remove  the  egg,  but 
watched  for  the  cowbird.  Before  the  egg  was 
hatched  I  shot  the  mother.  I  wanted  to  see 
if  a  young  cowbird,  reared  without  his  own 
mother,  would  go  out  to  the  cow-pasture  where 
there  was  a  flock  of  old  cowbirds.  The  che- 
winks  reared  the  cowbird  and  three  of  their 
own  babies.  This  was  the  first  brood.  When 
the  mother  chewink  made  a  new  nest,  the 
father  took  care  of  the  four  little  ones.  Be- 
fore his  mate  hatched  the  second  brood,  he 
took  his  charge  to  a  bird  resort  near  a  pond. 
This  was  near  the  cow-pasture,  and  the  flock 
217 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

of  cowbirds  resorted  to  the  pond  for  water. 
It  gave  the  young  cowbird  a  good  chance  to 
go  with  its  kind.  Several  times  I  saw  cow- 
birds  approach  the  youngster,  but  he  always 
fled  as  if  he  thought  that  his  life  was  in  dan- 
ger. He  acted  just  as  young  tame  crows  do 
when  they  see  other  crows  near  them.  That 
fall  all  the  chewinks,  that  is,  the  old  ones  and 
the  first  brood,  with  the  cowbird,  remained 
about  the  dooryard  until  migration.  The 
second  brood  of  chewinks  was  destroyed  by 
a  snake,  after  which  the  first  family  was 
brought  back.  The  next  spring  the  cowbird 
did  not  return  with  the  chewinks.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  only  two  of  the  five  chewinks  returned. 
I  suppose  the  others  were  killed  in  the  rice- 
fields.  I  had  wired  the  cowbird  with  copper 
wire,  so  looked  for  him  in  the  different  flocks 
in  my  locality.  He  was  not  to  be  found,  and 
was  probably  shot  because  he  was  with  the 
chewinks  in  the  rice-fields. 

Two  years  ago  I  found  a  cowbird's  egg  in 
the  nest  of  a  Maryland  yellowthroat.     This 
nest  was  under  a  tussock  of  cut  grass,  just 
218 


THE    INSTINCT    OF    THE    COWBIRD 

over  a  stone  wall  that  enclosed  the  cow-pas- 
ture. As  usual,  it  was  the  first  nest  of  the 
Maryland  yellowthroats.  The  young  birds, 
three  besides  the  cowbird,  were  crowded  out 
of  the  nest,  but  as  luck  would  have  it  they 
fell  into  a  cavity  on  one  side  of  the  nest,  and 
'were  fed  by  the  parents.  I  saw  the  mother 
cowbird  feed  her  baby  before  he  was  out  of  the 
nest,  and  when  he  could  hop  about,  his  mother 
led  him  to  the  cow-pasture.  Afterward  I 
saw  her  carry  flies  from  the  cows  to  her  baby, 
which  was  in  the  bushes  near  the  wall.  I  think 
the  Maryland  yellowthroats  covered  their  own 
little  ones  from  the  night  air.  Perhaps  one  of 
them  protected  the  cowbird.  I  did  not  see  the 
foster-parents  feed  the  young  cowbird  after 
he  was  able  to  leave  the  nest.  I  watched  one 
morning  for  two  hours,  and  saw  the  birds  make 
many  trips  with  insects,  which  they  fed  to 
their  own  birds.  The  cowbird  was  near  at 
hand,  over  the  wall,  but  the  birds  did  not 
go  near  him. 

From  my  observations  I  am  convinced  that 
the  cowbird  does  not  desert  its  offspring,  but; 
219 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

instead,  keeps  an  eye  to  its  welfare,  and  ends 
by  assuming  the  whole  care  of  its  food,  and 
leads  it  to  associate  with  its  kind  after  it  is 
large,  or  old  enough  to  fly. 

I  have  a  little  bird  friend,  a  chestnut-sided 
warbler,  that  nests  near  my  cabin.  Three 
springs  running  I  found  a  cowbird's  egg  in 
my  little  friend's  nest.  The  first  two  eggs 
I  threw  out,  but  the  third  year  I  thought  to 
try  an  experiment,  the  same  that  was  after- 
ward tried  on  the  che winks,  and  shot  the 
mother  cowbird.  The  cowbird  was  out  of  the 
shell  before  the  other  eggs  had  hatched. 
There  were  three  eggs  in  the  nest,  and  the 
young  cowbird  managed  to  break  them.  The 
chestnut-sided  warblers  had  begun  to  feed  the 
alien,  but  when  they  found  the  broken  eggs, 
they  deserted  the  nest  and  left  the  young 
cowbird  to  starve.  They  made  a  new  nest 
not  over  three  rods  from  the  old  one.  I  was 
sorry  that  I  had  shot  the  mother  cowbird. 
It  would  have  proved  whether  a  cowbird  would 
leave  her  offspring  to  starve,  if  deserted  by 
the  foster-parents. 

220 


THE    INSTINCT    OF    THE    COWBIRD 

I  have  mentioned  putting  copper  wire  on 
the  young  cowbird's  leg.  This  artifice  was 
used  on  other  birds  as  well.  I  could  easily 
identify  my  birds  when  they  returned  in  mi- 
gration. I  put  two  turns  of  wire  around  a 
young  robin's  leg  one  spring.  This  robin 
was  brought  up  by  catbirds,  with  my  assist- 
ance. I  had  removed  a  catbird's  egg  to  a 
robin's  nest,  and  a  robin's  egg  to  a  catbird's 
nest.  The  crows  destroyed  the  robin's  nest, 
but  the  catbirds  reared  their  family.  The 
young  robin  proved  to  be  a  male.  He  asso- 
ciated with  the  catbirds,  and  went  South  with 
them.  He  returned  in  the  spring  with  the 
male  catbirds.  The  females  and  young  re- 
turned together  about  a  week  later.  The 
young  robin  remained  about  the  cabin  and 
the  little  brook  where  the  catbirds  nested  until 
the  last  of  June.  He  had  a  favorite  tree,  an 
oak,  where  he  would  perch  in  the  morning  and 
attempt  to  sing.  His  song  was  made  up  from 
that  of  the  robin  and  catbird.  A  curious 
medley.  The  last  of  June  I  missed  the  bird, 

221 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

and  looked  for  him  in  his  favorite  oak.  I 
found  his  body  lodged  in  a  small  hemlock 
beneath  the  oak.  He  had  been  shot  while 
singing  in  his  favorite  tree. 


222 


XIII. 
BEE   HUNTING 

I  HAVE  made  my  title  Bee  Hunting,  while 
I  remember  well  that  down  in  Maine  we  used 
the  term  "  lining  bees."  I  was  enthusiastic 
over  the  sport  when  farming  in  Maine,  and 
when  I  had  located  on  Cape  Ann,  I  searched 
the  wild  flowers  for  bees.  I  found  bees  enough, 
so  made  the  attempt  to  find  a  wild  swarm. 
All  my  efforts  were  unsuccessful  the  first  year. 
My  bees  all  lined  to  tame  swarms  in  hives.  The 
second  and  third  years  I  found  swarms,  but 
they  did  not  have  much  honey.  These  wild 
bees  were  in  ledges,  and  the  ants  had  found 
the  honey  and  had  appropriated  the  lion's 
share.  In  Maine  the  bees  resorted  to  hollow 
trees,  mostly  pine ;  and  in  the  old  days  many 
farmers  lost  swarms,  which  helped  to  stock 


<See  Hunting 


V 
v 


ij)ee  Hunting 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

the  woods.  In  any  locality  where  there  are 
large  trees  bees  can  be  found,  because  some 
of  the  trees  are  sure  to  be  hollow.  The  amount 
of  honey  made  by  a  wild  swarm  will  run  from 
a  few  pounds  to  two  hundred  pounds.  The 
size  of  the  hollow  in  the  tree  regulates  the 
amount  of  honey.  If  the  hollow  is  large 
enough  to  hold  the  young  bees,  no  swarm  will 
be  sent  out,  so  a  large  quantity  of  honey  will 
be  stored. 

Bee  hunting  is  a  sport  that  can  be  followed 
by  any  number  of  persons,  without  regard  to 
sex.  For  pure  enjoyment  it  is  far  ahead  of 
golf.  It  can  be  followed  without  fatigue, 
and  it  allows  plenty  of  time  for  social  chats. 
A  party  could  go  out  at  ten  o'clock,  provided 
with  a  lunch,  and  could  return  in  time  for  the 
six-o'clock  dinner.  The  discovery  of  new 
birds  or  flowers  might  add  much  to  the  pleas- 
ure, and  the  uncertainty  of  the  honey  hunt 
would  give  zest  to  the  sport. 

I  will  briefly  give  the  method  adopted  by 
the  best  bee  hunters.  First,  as  to  tools  to 
work  with.  A  compass  and  a  hatchet  will  be 


BEE    HUNTING 

necessary.  The  hatchet  is  used  in  blazing 
trees.  The  most  important  thing  is  the  bee- 
box.  This  can  be  made  from  a  wooden  candy 
or  lozenge  box,  with  a  slide.  Split  the  box 
half-way  between  top  and  bottom.  Place  the 
top  half  on  the  bottom  half  with  the  slide 
down.  Connect  the  two  with  hinges.  Now 
you  have  a  double  box,  hinged  in  the  middle, 
with  the  upper  part  open.  For  a  cover,  set 
in  a  piece  of  glass  just  the  right  size,  or  you 
can  nail  on  a  wooden  cover  with  a  piece  of 
glass  inserted  over  a  hole  left  for  that  pur- 
pose. It  will  be  a  good  plan  to  make  a  new 
slide.  It  should  be  long  enough  to  project 
four  or  five  inches  when  closed.  You  will  need 
two  or  three  pieces  of  breeding  comb,  empty 
of  course.  You  should  take  along  a  bottle 
containing  honey  and  water.  One-third 
water.  About  two  ounces  of  the  mixture  is 
enough  to  mix  at  one  time,  as  it  will  sour  in 
two  days.  If  you  use  clear  honey  the  bees 
will  take  up  much  time  cleaning  their  legs 
and  wings ;  it  is  too  thick  and  sticky  for  good 
work.  A  light  staff  five  feet  in  length,  sharp 
225 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 


<f)ee  Hunting 


at  one  end  and  with  a  piece  of  thin  board, 
say  eight  inches  square,  nailed  to  the  other 
end,  comprises  your  working  outfit,  except 
a  good  glass. 

You  are  now  ready  for  the  field.  A  hilly 
pasture  is  an  ideal  place  for  bee  hunting, 
when  it  is  surrounded  by  woodland.  Waste 
lands,  where  fire  has  killed  the  trees,  and 
goldenrod  grows  abundantly,  will  be  found 
to  be  the  best  location  of  all.  When  you  get 
to  the  spot  selected,  set  your  staff  into  the 
ground  ready  for  the  bee-box.  Old  bee  hunt- 
ers seldom  use  a  staff,  but  depend  on  finding 
a  stump  or  boulder  for  a  box-holder.  The 
staff  is  handy,  for  you  may  not  find  a  stump 
or  boulder  near  shade,  or  a  spot  where  one  can 
be  seated  in  comfort.  Your  box  should  be 
empty.  Pull  the  slide  out,  and  open  the  box. 
When  you  find  a  bee  on  a  goldenrod  or  other 
flower,  quickly  place  the  box  over  him,  and 
close  it.  The  bee  will  seek  the  glass.  Shove 
in  the  slide,  and  you  have  your  first  prisoner. 
Now  you  must  leave  the  slide  closed  while 
catching  your  second  bee.  When  you  have 
226 


BEE    HUNTING. 


BEE    HUNTING 

him  in  the  lower  part  of  your  box,  pull  out 
the  slide,  and  he  will  seek  the  glass  with  your 
first  prisoner.  Push  in  the  slide,  and  you 
are  ready  for  the  third  bee.  When  you  have 
caught  five  you  would  better  stop,  for  if  you 
carry  bees  too  long  in  the  box  they  will  re- 
fuse to  work.  Take  the  box  to  the  staff. 
Put  a  piece  of  comb  in  the  lower  half.  Turn 
on  some  of  the  mixture,  then  close  the  box. 
Pull  out  the  slide,  and  cover  the  glass  with 
coat,  hat,  or  hand.  Look  every  minute  to  ^ 

see  if  the  bees  have  gone  down  to  the  honey. 
When  they  are  down,  open  the  box  gently, 
and  stand  back.  As  soon  as  a  bee  is  full  he  . 

will  drop  off  the  box  and  swing  to  and  fro,  ^ 

until  he  thinks  that  he  has  fastened  the  spot 
in  his  memory.  Then  he  will  begin  to  circle, 
to  find  landmarks,  to  guide  him  to  the  hive. 
His  circles  will  increase  in  size  and  height,  V 

and  he  will  soon  be  lost  to  the  eye.  It  is  not 
worth  while  to  try  to  follow  the  bee's  flight  ^f 

at  this  stage.  After  he  has  made  two  or 
three  trips  he  will  drop  off  the  box,  and  go  4 

directly  to  the  hive.    He  has  got  his  landmarks 
227 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

now.  Other  bees  from  the  hive  will  soon  be 
hunting  along  the  line,  for  the  first  bees  tell 
their  mates  of  the  find.  If  there  is  only  a 
small  amount  of  honey  a  few  bees  will  seek 
it.  Enough  bees  will  come  to  remove  the 
honey  in  two  days.  If  there  is  a  large  amount 
<5ee  Hunting  of  honey  about  all  the  working  bees  in  a 
swarm  will  turn  out.  I  have  taken  a  basket 
of  comb  from  strained  honey  on  to  a  bee- 
line,  and  have  had  two  quarts  or  more  of 
bees  on  the  comb  at  a  time.  I  could  walk 
slowly  along  the  line,  and  the  bees  would 
come  and  go  as  readily  as  if  I  was  stationary. 
It  is  a  good  plan  to  hang  up  a  newspaper,  or 
a  flag  of  some  kind,  near  the  box.  Some 
hunters  claim  that  the  bees  will  find  the  box 
by  scent,  so  use  the  anise  bag. 

We  will  now  return  to  the  bee-box.  There 
is  a  lot  said  about  a  bee-line,  which  is  sup- 
posed to  be  a  straight  line,  but  the  fact  is, 
the  bee  flies  in  a  wavy  line.  He  drops  off 
the  box  and  starts  for  the  hive,  swinging  from 
side  to  side  of  an  imaginary  straight  line. 
The  swings  will  cover  about  thirty  feet,  but 
228 


BEE    HUNTING 

it  is  an  easy  matter  to  strike  a  centre.  A 
bee  can  be  seen  for  a  long  distance  after  he 
leaves  the  box.  Suppose  you  are  on  a  hill, 
overlooking,  to  the  westward,  a  valley  covered 
with  trees,  and  your  bees  go  into,  or  over, 
the  woodland.  Take  out  the  honeycomb  and 
leave  it  on  the  staff.  If  the  box  is  sticky 
with  honey,  clean  it  with  moss  or  leaves.  Now 
catch  five  bees  as  before.  Take  them  north 
sixty  rods  or  more  on  a  right  angle  line  if 
possible.  Place  your  box  on  a  boulder  or 
stump,  and  let  the  bees  go  as  before.  Before 
leaving  the  staff,  take  a  good  look  along 
the  line  the  bees  are  following.  If  you  can 
locate  a  tall  tree  on  the  west  side  of  the  swamp 
so  you  may  know  it  again,  you  will  find  it 
useful.  When  the  bees  get  to  work  on  the  new 
line  look  for  your  tall  tree.  If  the  bees  go  to 
the  right  of  the  tree,  the  hive  is  not  in  the 
valley.  The  only  thing  to  do  now  is  to  move 
to  the  other  side  of  the  valley  if  there  is  open 
land,  and  proceed  just  as  you  did  at  first. 
If  the  hills  beyond  the  valley  are  wooded,  you 
will  have  to  follow  your  first  line.  If  you 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

can  find  the  tall  tree,  it  would  be  a  good  plan 
to  go  to  it  and  set  the  compass,  and  begin 
to  bush  a  path  along  the  line.  As  you  pro- 
gress on  the  line,  hunt  all  the  trees  on  each 
side.  If  you  can  find  an  open  spot  anywhere, 
set  up  your  staff  and  box.  You  might  find 
that  the  bees  were  returning  on  the  line,  then 
you  would  know  that  you  had  passed  the 
hive.  If  bees  enter  a  piece  of  woods,  and 
there  is  an  open  spot  beyond,  they  can  be 
started  from  the  open  spot  to  decide  if  they 
turn  back  or  go  on.  It  is  unnecessary  for  me 
to  go  further  into  the  details  of  lining.  It 
is  a  poor  hunter  that  cannot  overcome  ob- 
stacles that  spring  up  in  his  way.  When  the 
tree  is  located,  trouble  begins.  There  are 
two  ways  of  taking  up  the  honey.  One  way 
is  to  plug  the  hole  where  the  bees  enter  the 
tree,  and  then  cut  or  bore  a  hole  near  the 
ground  and  insert  the  nose  of  an  old  tea- 
kettle filled  with  burning  brimstone.  The 
next  day  the  bees  will  be  dead,  and  the  honey 
will  be  cool  to  handle.  This  is  the  method 
pursued  by  market  hunters.  I  never  took 
230 


BEE    HUNTING 

kindly  to  the  method.  Another  method  fol- 
lowed is  to  put  on  gloves,  and  for  the  head 
a  straw  hat  with  wide  brim.  Cover  the  hat 
with  mosquito-netting  long  enough  to  be 
buttoned  under  the  coat.  This  will  prove  a 
good  protection  against  stinging.  Tie  the 
trousers  legs  at  the  ankles,  and  you  are  ready 
to  begin.  While  cutting  down  the  tree  you 
will  have  no  trouble  if  the  tree  is  large  and 
the  hole  high  up.  After  the  tree  is  down, 
you  will  have  to  cut  into  the  honey  and  split 
off  the  outside  wood.  The  moment  a  blow 
is  struck  over  the  honey  the  bees  will  pile  on 
to  you.  You  will  have  to  brush  them  off, 
or  you  cannot  see  to  chop.  When  the  store 
is  fully  exposed,  the  bees  will  give  up,  and 
will  begin  to  load  with  honey.  Then  they  are 
harmless,  and  will  not  sting  unless  jammed. 
As  soon  as  the  bees  give  up,  you  may  remove 
your  protection,  roll  your  sleeves  up,  sit  on 
the  tree  and  help  yourself  to  the  choice  bits. 
You  need  not  feel  nervous  if  bees  are  flying 
all  about  you.  The  fight  is  all  out  of  them 
as  soon  as  the  honey  is  exposed. 
231 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

I  forgot  to  say  that  when  the  first  blow  of 
the  ax  falls,  after  the  tree  is  down,  the  fierce 
roar  which  the  bees  make  would  frighten  a 
nervous  person  out  of  his  senses.  I  have  seen 
strong  men  cringe,  and  I  can  remember  cases 

Hunting      where  fright  led  to  flight' 

Some  persons  are  so  nervous  that  they  will 

not  face  the  bees  without  protection.  A 
friend  that  lived  near  my  farm  in  Maine, 
came  to  me  one  morning  with  the  story  of  a 
wild  swarm  of  bees,  which  he  had  not  been 
able  to  find,  although  he  had  at  one  time  a 
line  to  the  hive.  We  started  out  to  find  this 
swarm  the  twelfth  day  of  September.  The 
eighth  was  noted  for  wind,  and  thousands 
of  forest  trees  had  been  turned  up  by  the 
roots.  We  found  some  bees  near  a  highway. 
They  went  due  west  into  or  over  a  bad  swamp. 
The  swamp  was  nearly  two  miles  wide,  with 
a  bog  on  the  west.  The  bog  bordered  Pick- 
erel Pond  on  the  south.  We  took  some  bees 
around  the  swamp  to  the  open  bog.  We 
found  that  the  bees  kept  on  to  the  westward  to 
a  pine  ridge.  After  hunting  two  hours,  I 


BEE    HUNTING 

found  the  hive.  The  tree  was  a  pine,  two  feet 
through  near  the  ground.  The  gale  had  bro- 
ken it  where  the  bees  entered  and  so  the  part 
with  the  honey  in  it  was  on  the  ground.  About 
a  peck  of  bees  had  clung  to  the  top  of  the  stub. 
The  ground  around  the  tree  was  black  with 
bees.  The  tree  had  split  open  and  honey  was 
slowly  running  out  and  dropping  on  to  the 
pine  needles.  There  were  over  two  hundred 
pounds  of  honey  in  that  tree  when  standing. 
The  bees  that  were  carrying  away  honey  were 
mostly  from  tame  swarms,  but  the  woods  were 
full  of  bees  hunting  for  the  store.  I  called 
my  friend,  and  while  he  was  coming  I  chopped 
out  the  honey.  I  did  not  disturb  the  comb, 
only  to  break  off  some  to  eat.  The  next  day 
we  returned  in  a  team  which  we  left  in  a  clear- 
ing to  the  north  and  about  one  and  a  half  miles 
from  the  honey.  My  friend  was  mortally 
afraid  of  bees.  He  swore  that  they  would 
follow  him  into  the  house  and  sting  him.  I 
worked  on  the  honey,  filling  buckets  without 
protection.  As  it  was  a  warm  day,  I  worked 
bare-armed.  The  bees  were  completely  harm- 
233 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 


<Dee  Hunting 


less.  My  friend  had  on  a  close  veil  and  two 
pairs  of  gloves,  and  all  I  could  say  had  no 
effect.  He  swore  the  bees  would  sting  him 
to  death  if  he  should  remove  his  veil.  He  could 
not  eat  honey,  and  he  was  a  great  honey  fiend. 
I  would  eat  the  best  I  could  find  before  him, 
and  chaff  him  all  the  time.  At  last  he  could 
stand  it  no  longer.  He  took  a  sheet  of  well- 
filled  comb  and  started  up  the  hill.  It  was 
his  idea  to  get  away  from  the  bees,  where  he 
could  remove  his  gloves  and  veil  and  enjoy  a 
feast. 

Inside  of  five  minutes  I  was  startled  by  a 
succession  of  yells  that  appeared  to  extend  in 
a  line  from  the  top  of  the  hill  to  the  swamp. 
Shortly  a  doleful  voice  called  to  me  from  the 
swamp.  I  went  down  and  found  my  friend  up 
to  his  hips  in  water.  He  wanted  me  to  go  up 
the  hill  and  find  his  gloves  and  veil.  I  tried 
to  have  him  come  out,  but  he  claimed  that  the 
bees  had  stung  him  until  he  was  nearly  blind. 
He  told  such  a  pitiable  story  that  I  believed 
him  and  hunted  up  his  lost  property.  When 
he  came  to  the  edge  of  the  swamp,  I  could 
234 


BEE    HUNTING 

not  see  anything  that  looked  like  stings  on  his 
face,  and  told  him  so.  He  had  got  his  gloves 
and  veil,  so  he  simply  grinned.  When  he  un- 
dertook to  eat  his  honey  on  the  hill,  bees  that 
were  hunting  for  honey  had  found  him,  and 
buzzed  about  his  ears  until  he  was  completely 
demoralized  with  fear.  They  would  not 
sting  any  one.  My  friend  could  have  worked 
unprotected,  just  as  I  did,  but  his  nerves 
would  not  permit  it. 

There  is  another  method  of  bee  hunting  * 

which  I  must  describe,  or  my  article  would 
be  incomplete.  This  method  is  pursued  late 
in  the  season,  when  bees  cannot  be  found  on  ^ 

flowers.     Pressed  comb  is  burned  to  attract  ^ 

the  bees.     Take  some  of  this  comb  to  the  ^ 

woods,  where  there  is  likely  to  be  a  swarm, 
and  make  a  fire.  Heat  two  or  three  flat  rocks, 

t^J? 

and  use  one  at  a  time,  sizzling  the  comb. 
Have  honey  handy  so  the  bees  will  find  it 
when  they  follow  the  scent  of  the  burning 
comb  to  the  spot.  This  method  is  successful 
early  in  the  season  some  years.  J^  ^> 


235 


XIV. 
TINY 

IN  the  series  of  nature  studies,  published 
in  Forest  and  Stream's  natural  history  col- 
umns, Tiny  was  briefly  introduced  to  the 
public.  Tiny  is  a  red  squirrel,  the  son  of 
Bismarck.  The  latter  was  a  grizzled  old 
warrior,  the  hero  of  many  a  fierce  battle. 
Why  he  gave  the  cabin  dooryard  to  Tiny  is 
one  of  the  mysteries  of  squirrel  life.  He  had 
held  it  against  all  squirrels,  red  or  gray,  for 
ten  years,  and  now  gave  it  over  to  Tiny  to 
have  and  to  hold,  without  reserve. 

A  return  to  Bismarck's  life  history  may 
throw  some  light  on  this  peculiar  transaction. 

Bismarck's  family,  April,  1900,  consisted 
of  a  wife  and  four  children.  Mrs.  Bismarck, 
at  that  time,  left  her  children  to  the  care  of 


TINY 


her  husband,  while  she  made  a  new  nest  in 
which  to  rear  another  family.  It  was  Bis- 
marck's duty  to  finish  the  education  of  the 
young  squirrels  and  to  marry  off  the  daugh- 
ters to  young  males  of  another  family,  and 
to  locate  his  sons  on  territory  which  they 
would  ever  after  own,  and  for  which  they 
would  fight  to  the  death. 

Tiny  was  not  half  so  big  as  his  only 
brother.  Perhaps  that  was  the  reason  why 
Bismarck  favored  him,  and  brought  him  to 
the  dooryard.  It  was  an  unusual  act,  for 
Bismarck  insisted  that  his  sons  should  remain 
on  the  territory  upon  which  he  had  located 
them. 

When  Tiny  had  acquired  full  possession, 
he  proved  to  be  a  "  chip  of  the  old  block." 
His  motto,  "  No  trespass,"  was  impartially 
enforced.  He  raced  his  brother,  sisters, 
father,  mother,  as  well  as  strangers,  out  of 
the  dooryard,  and  fiercely  attacked  any  squir- 
rel that  did  not  depart  after  the  first  warn- 
ing. It  was  laughable  to  see  Bismarck,  the 
grizzled  old  warrior,  run  as  if  for  life  when 
237 


3SSBT 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

caught  trespassing  by   Tiny.     When   Tiny 
approaches  through  the  tree-tops  and  finds 

Aisroar  a    S(lu^rrel   *n   t^ie    dooryard,    he    stops    and 

k^      and          sounds  his  war-cry.     This  cry  is  long  drawn 

~!^y^      out,  and  is  something  like  the  buzzing  of  an 

old  wooden   clock  when   running  down   and 

striking  the  hours.     After  this  warning,  he 

makes  a  rush  for  the  interloper,  and  if  he 

catches  him  the  fur  flies. 

Tiny  had  a  lively  experience  with  a  wharf- 
rat.  The  rat  was  a  monster.  What  caused 
him  to  take  to  the  woods  is  a  mystery.  Prob- 
ably he  was  a  rat  Christopher  Columbus,  and 
had  started  out  to  discover  a  new  world. 
£v  When  he  found  my  dooryard  he  seemed 

*— ^  satisfied.     From  a  rat's  standpoint  it  proved 

to  be  "  a  land  flowing  with  milk  and  honey." 
Wheat,  corn,  meat,  bird-seeds,  with  no 
bloodthirsty  human  being  to  make  life  miser- 
able. After  two  days  of  feasting  the  big 
fellow  disappeared,  to  appear  again  three 
days  later  with  a  mate.  Doubtless  the  sly 
old  rogue  thought  that  he  was  able  to  sup- 


238 


TINY 

port  a  family  on  the  fortune  he  had  dis- 
covered in  the  woods. 

I  trapped  the  small  rat,  but  found  the  big 
one  too  crafty  to  enter  a  trap. 

At  first  the  rat  did  his  foraging  in  the 
night-time,  so  Tiny  had  no  chance  to  make 
his  acquaintance.  Later  he  became  bold 
enough  to  feed  in  the  daytime,  which,  in  the 
end,  brought  him  in  contact  with  Tiny.  I 
was  talking  to  some  visitors  from  one  of  the 
big  summer  hotels,  telling  them  the  history 
of  the  rat,  while  he  was  eating  from  a  loaf 
of  bread  in  the  dooryard,  when  I  heard  Tiny's 
war-cry.  I  told  my  visitors  to  look  out  for  a 
hot  time.  Tiny  ran  out  on  a  limb  about  six 
feet  above  the  rat,  and  told  him  in  vigorous 
squirrel  language  that  he  was  a  thief  and  a 
robber.  The  rat  looked  up,  wondering  what 
the  angry  little  animal  could  be,  that  was 
talking  in  an  unknown  tongue,  and  pounding 
the  pine-limb  with  his  hind  feet.  It  never  en- 
tered his  head  to  be  afraid  of  such  an  insig- 
nificant foe.  Tiny  ran  down  the  tree-trunk, 
landing  on  the  ground  not  four  feet  from 
239 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 


the  rat.  The  latter  stood  on  his  hind  feet 
and  squealed  a  warning. 

A  lady  visitor  urged  me  to  drive  the  rat 
away.  "  Rats  are  great  fighters,"  said  she. 
"  The  poor  little  squirrel  will  be  killed."  I 
offered  to  bet  on  the  squirrel,  but  before  she 
could  answer,  the  fight  was  on.  Tiny  caught 
the  rat  by  the  neck.  For  a  few  seconds  all 
that  could  be  seen  was  something  brown 
whirling  in  a  cloud  of  pine-needles.  The  rat 
soon  found  that  his  little  foe  was  a  cyclonic 
fighter,  and  he  made  desperate  efforts  to  es- 
cape. He  dragged  Tiny  to  a  stone  wall, 
leaving  a  trail  of  blood  behind.  When  he 
entered  the  wall,  Tiny  let  go  and  returned 
to  the  bread  and  coolly  proceeded  to  eat  his 
dinner,  none  the  worse  for  his  fierce  battle. 

The  rat  did  not  return.  He  either  died 
from  the  effects  of  Tiny's  savage  bites,  or, 
if  he  survived,  left  in  disgust. 

Tiny  was  not  always  full  of  fight.     He 

formed   a   friendship   for   a   young   towhee- 

bunting   after   a    singular   encounter.      The 

bunting  was  eating  from  a  loaf  of  bread, 

240 


iGAIN     THE     PLUCKY    LITTLE     BUNTING    SET    ITS    WINGS 
AND    LOWERED    ITS    HEAD." 


TINY 


which  was  staked  down  in  the  dooryard,  when 
Tiny  appeared.  The  squirrel  thought  that 
the  bird  would  run  away,  but  instead,  the 
latter  set  its  wings  and  lowered  its  head  in 
preparation  for  battle.  Tiny  was  astonished. 
He  sat  up,  folded  his  f orepaws  on  his  breast, 
and  looked  on  the  gamy  little  bunting  with 
wide-eyed  wonder.  The  bunting  soon  turned 
to  the  bread.  Tiny  brought  his  forepaws 
down  hard  on  the  ground,  evidently  to 
frighten  the  bird.  Again  the  plucky  little 
bunting  set  its  wings  and  lowered  its  head. 
Again  Tiny  sat  up  and  looked  the  little 
fellow  over.  This  time  there  was  a  comical 
expression  on  the  face  of  the  squirrel  that 
said  as  plain  as  words  could  tell  that  he  ap- 
preciated the  situation.  That  he  admired  the 
pluck  of  the  bunting  was  evident  by  his 
action.  He  crept  quietly  to  the  opposite  side 
of  the  loaf  of  bread,  and  allowed  the  bunting 
to  eat  unmolested.  After  this  the  two  would 
eat  together  whenever  they  chanced  to  be  in 
the  dooryard  at  the  same  time. 

Tiny  did  not  allow   other  buntings  near 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

his  food,  and  I  thought  he  would  forget  his 
bird  friend  when  the  buntings  returned  in 
the  spring  migration,  but  not  so.  He  knew 
his  friend  at  once,  and  chuckled  some  kind 
of  a  greeting,  while  the  bunting  said  some- 
thing in  bird  language  that  seemed  to  my  ears 
to  express  joy. 

The  red  squirrel  is  quick-witted  and  full 
of  resources.  If  new  and  unusual  conditions 
confront  him  he  is  equal  to  the  occasion.  I 
have  had  proof  of  this  hundreds  of  times. 

I  will  relate  one  instance:  I  feed  hemp- 
seed  to  the  birds.  The  red  squirrels  and 
chipmunks  are  fond  of  the  seed,  and  unless 
I  stand  guard,  will  manage  to  get  the  lion's 
share.  The  chipmunks  stuff  their  pouched 
cheeks,  and  would  carry  away  a  bushel  every 
day  if  it  was  fed  to  them. 

When  Tiny  is  present,  no  squirrel  or  chip- 
munk dares  to  meddle  with  the  food.  He 
does  not  molest  the  birds,  and  I  really  think 
that  he  knows  that  the  seeds  belong  to  them. 

Last  fall  I  placed  a  wire  netting  over  a 
shallow  box,  so  the  birds  could  pick  out  seeds, 


TINY 


while  the  squirrels  could  not  get  their  noses 
through  the  mesh.  The  chipmunks  were  puz- 
zled, and  one  after  another  gave  up  in  dis- 
gust, to  fall  back  on  bread  and  corn.  When 
Tiny  found  the  box  he  got  mad  all  through. 
He  crowded  his  nose  against  the  wire  netting, 
biting  savagely  meanwhile.  I  laughed,  and 
Tiny  instantly  stopped  his  efforts  and  looked 
in  my  direction.  All  at  once  he  got  the  idea 
into  his  head  that  I  had  blocked  his  game,  and 
had  caused  the  trouble.  In  three  bounds  he 
landed  on  the  trunk  of  a  pine-tree,  and  run- 
ning to  a  limb  just  over  my  head,  he  told  me 
in  wicked  squirrel  language  just  what  he 
thought  of  me.  In  his  anger  he  pounded 
the  limb  with  his  hind  feet,  stopping  now 
and  then  to  charge  down  the  tree-trunk,  as 
if  he  were  about  to  attack  me. 

After  ten  minutes  of  this  hot  work  he  be- 
came quiet,  except  a  sob,  which  he  uttered 
from  time  to  time.  Finding  that  I  would  not 
help  him,  he  returned  to  the  box.  He  tried 
the  wire  a  short  time,  then  sat  up  and  folded 
his  paws  across  his  breast  and  fell  into  a 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 


brown  study.  Like  a  flash  he  came  out  of  his 
trance,  grasped  the  box,  and  turned  it  com- 
pletely over,  then  he  began  to  eat,  saying 
something  to  me,  while  he  jerked  his  tail  in 
a  defiant  manner.  After  this,  whenever  he 
found  seed  in  the  box,  he  quickly  turned  them 
out.  For  a  week  or  more  I  allowed  him  to 
have  his  way.  I  wanted  my  visitors  to  see 
how  cute  the  little  scamp  could  be  on  a  pinch. 
Later  I  drove  stakes  across  the  box  to  hold 
it  down.  I  returned  one  day  to  find  that 
Tiny  had  managed  to  dig  a  hole  beneath 
the  box,  and  had  gnawed  through  the  bottom. 
I  tried  another  scheme  for  the  purpose  of 
testing  the  intelligence  of  the  squirrel.  I 
stretched  a  cord  between  two  trees,  and  half- 
way suspended  a  box  open  at  the  top.  Tiny 
saw  the  birds  eating  from  the  box,  and  he 
quickly  understood  that  it  was  another  device 
of  mine  to  outwit  him.  He  ran  up  one  of  the 
trees,  and  tried  the  limbs  that  hung  over  the 
box.  He  soon  found  a  slender  limb  that  would 
bend  under  his  weight  and  let  him  into  the 
box.  After  he  had  used  this  highway  several 
244 


MADE    HIS    WAY    TO    THE    BOX,    HAND    OVER    HAND." 


TINY 


days  I  cut  the  limb  away.  When  Tiny  found 
a  fresh  stub  instead  of  a  limb,  he  understood 
what  it  meant.  He  knew  that  I  was  the  guilty 
one,  and  he  swore  at  me,  if  a  squirrel  can 
swear,  for  twenty  minutes.  His  next  move 
was  to  investigate  the  line  where  it  was  at- 
tached to  the  trees.  He  thought  he  could 
reach  the  box  over  the  line,  and  started  out. 
When  about  a  foot  from  the  tree,  the  line 
turned,  and  Tiny  jumped  to  the  ground. 
He  tried  this  three  times,  and  met  with  failure. 
The  fourth  time,  when  the  line  turned,  he 
clung  to  it  and  made  his  way  to  the  box,  hand 
over  hand.  I  thought  he  deserved  a  reward 
for  his  continued  effort  and  intelligence,  so 
since  then  I  allow  him  to  eat  from  the  box 
whenever  he  feels  like  it. 

Tiny  made  a  cozy  nest  in  November,  of 
moss,  leaves,  and  grass.  It  was  in  the  top 
of  a  pine-tree  that  hangs  over  the  cabin  door- 
yard.  Some  wretch  shot  this  nest  to  pieces 
when  I  was  absent.  I  returned  to  find  empty 
shells  in  the  dooryard,  and  fragments  of  the 
nest  hanging  to  the  tree.  Tiny  made  another 
245 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

nest  in  a  near-by  pine,  and  lives  in  it  at  this 
time.     The  past  two  winters  Tiny  made  his 
nest  in  my  summer  house.     Why  he  did  not 
(Fiism  occupy  the  house  this  winter  is  a  mystery. 

«xT»d  Perhaps  he  heard  me  say  that  I  should  take 

down  this  house  and  put  it  into  a  new  log- 
cabin  that  I  had  in  contemplation. 

Tiny  is  a  widower,  and  childless.  His  wife 
and  children  were  shot  to  death  by  the  gun- 
ners that  swarm  through  the  magnolia  woods. 

I  think  Bismarck  is  dead.  In  cold  weather 
he  made  it  a  practice  to  sly  up  to  the  cabin, 
just  at  dusk,  for  a  doughnut  or  a  bit  of 
bread.  For  some  time  I  have  missed  him. 
I  went  to  his  nest,  to  find  it  shot  to  pieces. 
Still  farther  away  I  found  Mrs.  Bismarck's 
nest  in  ruins,  and  silence  reigned  in  that  part 
of  the  woods. 

Tiny  is  now  an  orphan,  a  widower,  and  is 
also  childless.  He  occupies  in  squirrel  life 
the  same  relative  position  that  the  hermit 
occupies  in  human  life.  Tiny's  misfortune 
has  brought  the  man  and  squirrel  a  little 
nearer  together. 

246 


TINY 

With  few  exceptions,  writers  on  outdoor 
life  make  it  a  point  to  denounce  the  red 
squirrel.  They  claim  that  he  is  a  nest-robber 
of  the  worst  kind.  The  most  of  this  abuse 
bears  the  earmarks  of  the  library.  One  author 
copies  after  another,  without  knowledge  of 
the  real  life  of  one  of  the  most  interesting 
wild  things  of  the  woods. 

Reliable  observers  have  related  isolated 
cases  of  nest-robbing,  by  the  squirrel,  which 
we  have  no  reason  to  doubt.  I  believe  the 
thing  is  most  unusual,  and  happens  only  when 
the  food  supply  is  cut  off.  If  a  squirrel  in 
the  spring  is  face  to  face  with  a  famine,  he 
might  be  tempted  to  kill  and  eat  young  birds. 
I  have  no  record  against  the  red  squirrel,  after 
eighteen  years'  observation  here  on  the  Cape. 
In  Maine  for  fifteen  years  I  saw  squirrels 
plentiful  enough  on  my  farm.  A  small  fruit 
orchard,  near  the  farm  buildings,  usually  har- 
bored several  squirrels.  Birds  nested  in  the 
trees  and  reared  their  young  unless  a  coon 
cat  got  them  before  they  could  fly.  I  never 
knew  a  squirrel  to  molest  a  birds'  nest,  and  the 
247 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 


farmers  of  that  town  never  complained  of 
them,  so  far  as  I  know.  When  we  farmers 
compared  notes  on  bird  destroyers  we  invari- 
ably agreed  upon  crows,  snakes,  and  weasels. 
I  have  before  me  a  book  on  nature,  which 
contains  an  account  of  the  red  squirrel.  The 
author  tells  in  a  delightful  way  about 
the  wild  things,  but  some  of  his  statements 
are  based  on  imagination  instead  of  obser- 
vation. He  bitterly  assails  the  red  squirrel 
as  a  nest-robber,  but  some  things  in  his  story 
lead  me  to  think  he  has  culled  the  library  for 
his  statements.  This  story  may  fit  a  chip- 
munk :  "  that  the  squirrel  brought  six  chest- 
nuts to  his  store,  which  he  emptied  from  his 
*  cheek  pockets.'  "  I  venture  to  say,  that  no 
man  living  ever  saw  a  red  squirrel  carry  six 
nuts  at  one  mouthful.  This  squirrel  has  no 
cheek  pouches  like  the  chipmunk,  and  usually 
carries  one  nut,  seldom  two  at  a  time.  The 
author  has  his  very  bad  squirrel  come  to  a  bad 
end.  He  was  killed  by  five  or  six  robins  while 
he  was  carrying  off  one  of  their  fledgelings. 
It  is  an  excellent  representation  of  swift  ret- 
248 


TINY 


ribution,  but  to  any  one  who  knows  the 
fighting  ability  of  the  little  red  whirlwind  it 
can  be  taken  with  a  grain  of  salt.  It  would 
be  impossible  for  robins  enough  to  gather 
around  a  red  squirrel  to  kill  him.  In  my 
cabin  dooryard,  while  I  have  been  writing 
this  article,  a  desperate  fight  has  taken  place. 
Ten  crows,  made  bold  by  hunger,  attacked 
Tiny  and  tried  to  take  possession  of  a  loaf  of 
bread.  The  squirrel  never  flinched,  but  stood 
over  the  bread,  and  whenever  a  crow  got  over 
the  dead-line,  filled  the  dooryard  with  feathers. 
I  did  not  interfere,  but  saw  the  fight  from 
the  cabin  window.  The  black  rogues  were 
obliged  to  retreat  when  Tiny  got  downright 
mad.  When  the  fight  began  Tiny  did  not 
try  to  hurt  the  crows.  He  would  run  at  one 
and  allow  him  to  hop  into  the  air  and  take 
wing.  It  appeared  to  me  that  Tiny  was  just 
scaring  the  crows  away.  When  he  found  that 
they  were  in  earnest,  he  got  mad  and  made 
the  feathers  fly,  and  the  crows  had  to  leave 
to  save  their  lives. 

I  am  writing  natural  history  just  as  I  find 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 


it,  from  observation  of  the  wild  things.  To 
some  of  these  wild  things  I  am  caterer,  pro- 
tector, and  friend.  They  do  not  object  to 
my  presence  when  engaged  in  domestic  affairs, 
so  my  ability  to  pry  into  their  secrets  is  in- 
creased in  ratio  to  the  confidence  accorded  me. 
The  red  squirrel  is  one  of  the  wild  things 
which  I  have  thoroughly  studied  because  I 
have  had  the  opportunity  to  do  so.  When 
a  writer  asserts  that  the  red  squirrel  is  a  poor 
pro\ider,  and  without  family  ties,  I  know 
that  his  observations  have  been  haphazard, 
and  that  he  does  not  understand  the  life  his- 
tory of  the  little  animal  of  which  he  writes. 
The  male  squirrel  assists  his  mate  to  fill  a 
storehouse  for  family  use  and  then  hides 
stores  for  himself  on  territory  which  he  owns. 
Most  observers  see  the  squirrel  hiding  nuts 
here  and  there,  and  jump  to  the  conclusion 
that  he  is  improvident.  When  there  are  nuts 
the  red  squirrel  lays  up  a  store  for  his  family 
and  for  himself,  so  that  he  and  his  family 
are  well  fed  through  the  winter.  There  are 
no  emaciated  red  squirrels  in  the  spring, 
250 


TINY 


which  tells  the  story  of  careful  provision.  The 
young  squirrels  do  not  provide  for  them- 
selves, as  soon  as  big  enough,  as  stated  by 
some  writers.  The  young  born  in  April  re- 
main with  the  female  through  the  winter. 
The  male  has  a  nest  of  his  own,  but  if  the 
weather  is  very  cold  he  stays  in  the  home  nest 
with  his  family.  The  nest  is  intelligently  con- 
structed and  the  materials  used  are  selected 
from  supplies  near  at  hand.  Tiny's  nest  is 
made  largely  from  moss  that  I  use  for  pack- 
ing. The  nest  is  thatched  with  oak  leaves  so 
no  rain  can  enter.  Sometimes  it  happens  that 
wood-choppers  cut  a  tree  that  contains  a 
squirrel's  nest.  J  have  examined  such  nests. 
The  inside  is  lined  with  milk -weed  silk  and 
fine  shreds  of  yellow  birch  bark.  There  is 
always  a  surplus  of  this  soft  material,  which 
is  used  to  stuff  into  the  entrance  to  the 
nest.  The  squirrels  shut  the  outside  door  to 
keep  out  the  cold.  I  once  investigated  a  nest 
in  the  top  of  a  pine-tree,  when  the  thermometer 
registered  zero,  and  found  the  entrance 
packed  with  soft  material.  The  squirrels 
251 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

knew  all  about  cold  weather,  and  had  made 
arrangements  to  keep  the  nest  warm,  by 
laying  one  side  material  to  close  the  entrance 
when  necessary. 

When  I  see  an  unfinished  dwelling-house 
and  know  that  the  family  therein  must  suffer 
in  cold  weather,  I  think  of  the  cozy  dwelling 
that  the  red  squirrel  provides  for  his  little  ones, 
and  I  ask  myself  if  the  human  being  is  the 
only  intelligent  animal  in  nature's  catalogue? 


252 


XV. 


THE    CHESTNUT  -  SIDED    WARBLER 

THURSDAY  morning,  May  27,  1886,  a  small 
bird  hopped  out  of  the  bushes  into  my  door- 
yard.  The  bird  was  a  female  chestnut-sided 
warbler.  She  was  collecting  dry  grass  blades 
for  a  nest. 

May  27,  1897,  the  same  little  bird  was  in 
my  dooryard  engaged  as  before,  collecting 
nesting  material. 

Eleven  years  had  been  credited  to  the  past 
for  man  and  bird.  The  man  had  not  escaped 
the  weight  of  the  added  years.  Deeper 
wrinkles  and  gray  hair  told  the  story,  but  the 
little  bird,  strange  to  tell,  was  apparently  as 
blithe  and  young  as  on  that  Thursday  morn- 
ing eleven  years  before. 

I  provide  an  abundance  of  nesting  material 
253 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

for  all  birds  that  frequent  my  cabin  dooryard. 
The  chestnut-sided  warbler  seemed  to  appre- 
ciate my  motive  and  gave  me  her  confidence 
in  return.  After  the  first  year  I  could  sit  by 
her  nest  from  the  hour  the  first  straw  was  laid 
to  the  day  when  the  young  were  large  enough 


CHESTNUT -SIDED    WARBLER. 

to  take  wing,  and  she  would  go  on  with  her 
domestic  affairs  without  fear. 

During  eleven  years  the  bird  has  con- 
structed thirteen  nests.  Two  nests  were 
robbed  by  snakes  and  were  replaced.  No  two 
of  these  nests  were  alike.  All  were  loosely 
built,  and  with  the  exception  of  the  last  were 
254 


THE    CHESTNUT  -  SIDED    WARBLER 


saddled  on  the  forks  of  small  bushes.  The 
nest  of  1897  was  suspended  between  two  shoots 
of  a  currant  bush,  about  twenty  inches  from 
the  ground.  This  was  a  new  departure,  and 
led  me  to  have  a  picture  made  of  the  nest. 
There  was  a  bunch  of  currants  in  the  way  and 
the  bird  fastened  it  to  the  side  of  the  nest  with 
spiders-web.  The  currants  show  in  the  pic- 
ture. 

The  book  informs  us  that  the  nest  of  this 
warbler  is  never  pensile,  but  if  the  nest  in  my 
currant  bush  was  not  pensile,  what  may  we  call 
it?  It  was  fastened  at  the  brim  to  two  up- 
right currant  stems  without  support  at  the 
bottom.  The  brim  was  fashioned  first. 
It  was  composed  of  straws,  shreds  of  cedar 
bark,  and  dry  grass  blades.  The  same 
material  was  fastened  to  the  brim  and 
arranged  to  cross,  thus  forming  the  bot- 
tom and  sides.  The  tying  material  used  was 
spiders-web  and  silken  threads  from  some 
cocoon  unknown  to  me.  The  nest  was  lined 
with  fine  straw  and  horsehair.  All  the  nests 
previously  made  by  this  bird  contained  a  lib- 
255 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 


eral  amount  of  plant  down  on  the  outside. 
This  last  nest  was  nearly  wanting  in  plant 
down,  although  a  good  supply  was  in  the  door- 
yard. 

Several  years  ago  the  bird  saddled  into  the 
fork  of  a  bayberry  bush  a  bunch  of  cotton 
nearly  as  large  as  a  baseball,  and  on  this 
foundation  erected  a  nest. 

I  have  records  of  four  nests,  including  the 
last  —  the  one  in  the  currant  bush.  This 
1897  nest  was  three  and  one  half  inches  in 
diameter  by  two  inches  in  depth  inside,  and 
three  and  one  half  inches  outside.  The  foun- 
dation was  laid  May  27th,  and  the  nest  was 
completed  June  3d.  It  was  then  deserted 
for  three  days.  The  first  egg  was  deposited 
June  6th,  and  thereafter  one  each  day  until 
the  9th,  when  four  eggs  made  up  the  set.  The 
fourth  egg  was  pure  white;  the  other  three 
were  white  with  a  ring  of  reddish-brown 
blotches  around  the  larger  end. 

After  the  fourth  egg  was  laid  the  bird  re- 
mained on  the  nest  nights,  but  during  the 
daytime  for  three  days  spent  the  most  of  the 
256 


THE    CHESTNUT  -  SIDED    WARBLER 

time  gadding  about.  June  20th,  I  found 
one  bird  out  of  the  shell  and  the  next  day 
all  were  out.  The  young  birds  are  not  fed 
until  they  are  one  day  old.  They  are  not 
great  feeders  like  young  robins,  and  the 
mother  bird  has  an  easy  task  to  provide  food. 
The  birds  grow  rapidly.  At  first  the  mother 
can  cover  her  brood  while  half  hid  below  the 
brim  of  the  nest,  but  before  the  young  birds 
leave  the  nest  she  must  stand  with  a  .foot  on 
each  side  of  the  brim. 

July  2d  the  young  birds  were  induced  to 
leave  the  nest.  On  that  day  the  mother  bird 
did  not  feed  the  young  birds,  and  I  think  they 
must  have  been  downright  hungry.  Later 
she  tempted  them  with  a  plump  insect,  while 
the  male  fluttered  about  with  cries  of  en- 
couragement. Soon  one  hopped  out  of  the 
nest  on  to  a  twig  and  was  quickly  fed.  The 
others  took  the  hint,  and  all  were  soon  out  of 
the  nest.  Most  birds  pursue  the  same  method, 
and  it  reminds  one  of  teaching  baby  how  to 
walk. 

My  little  friend  has  had  two  mates  since 
257 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

we  became  acquainted.  She  was  made  a  widow 
by  a  prowling  cat  during  the  summer  of  1896- 
The  next  spring  she  returned  with  a  second 
husband.  This  newcomer  resented  any  famili- 
arity on  my  part.  He  seemed  to  think  that 
I  was  too  inquisitive,  and  made  a  great  fuss 
every  time  he  found  me  near  the  nest.  Fre- 
quently my  little  friend  would  fly  at  him  and 
drive  him  away.  She  tried  to  make  him  un- 
derstand that  I  was  a  welcome  guest,  but  he 
never  took  kindly  to  my  presence.  In  return 
I  thought  him  most  ungrateful,  for  I  had 
killed  one  cat  and  two  snakes  to  protect  his 
family. 

My  little  friend  holds  my  dooryard  and 
immediate  vicinity  against  all  other  chestnut- 
sided  warblers.  If  some  other  bird  of  the  same 
species  starts  a  nest,  the  little  squatter  tyrant 
drives  the  interloper  away.  She  claims  sway 
over  a  circle  about  200  feet  in  diameter, 
with  my  cabin  for  a  centre.  Catbirds,  towhee- 
buntings  and  oven-birds  and  two  ruffed  grouse 
have  nested  on  this  claim,  but  for  eleven 

258 


THE    CHESTNUT  -  SIDED    WARBLER 


years  no  chestnut-sided  warbler  has  succeeded 
in  preempting  the  claim. 

The  chestnut-sided  warbler  is  so  conspicu- 
ously marked  that  a  mere  tyro  in  bird  study 
cannot  mistake  it  for  any  other  member  of 
the  warbler  family.  The  bright  yellow  crown, 
pure  white  under  parts,  and  chestnut  sides  of 
the  old  birds  are  marks  not  to  be  mistaken. 
The  young  birds  are  yellowish  green  above 
and  silky  white  below. 

An  amusing  thing  happened  here  some 
years  ago  over  a  bird  of  this  species.  A  lady 
caller,  a  summer  resident,  asked  me  for  the- 
name  of  a  bird  which  often  visited  a  tree  over 
her  sitting-room  window.  She  claimed  that 
the  bird  was  pure  white  with  red  wings.  I 
could  not  make  her  understand  that  there  was 
no  such  bird  in  New  England.  "  Seeing  is 
believing,"  she  exclaimed,  and  I  was  invited 
to  investigate  for  myself.  While  looking 
from  the  sitting-room  window  I  saw  the  bird 
above  my  head  on  a  twig.  Sure  enough,  he 
was  a  white  bird  with  red  wings.  It  was  a 
chestnut-sided  warbler.  From  a  distance  the 
259 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 


effect  was  enough  like  a  white  bird  with  red 
wings  to  deceive  any  one  not  well  acquainted 
with  bird  life.  Looking  up  to  the  bird  the 
chestnut  sides  resembled  red  wings. 

I  sent  the  lady  into  an  upper  room,  where 
she  could  look  down  on  her  white  bird,  and 
she  soon  returned,  and  laughingly  said,  "  I 
always  knew  that  there  were  two  sides  to  a 
story,  and  now  I  have  just  learned  that  there 
are  two  sides  to  a  bird." 

May  27,  1902,  five  years  after  the  fore- 
going history  was  published,  the  same  little 
bird  hopped  to  my  feet  for  nesting  material. 
I  gave  her  some  cotton  twine,  cut  to  eight- 
inch  lengths,  and  she  carried  away  two  pieces. 
She  flew  to  a  small  hollow  about  twenty  feet 
south  of  my  spring.  I  followed,  and  seated 
on  a  small  boulder,  watched  the  nest  build- 
ing for  the  next  two  hours.  I  could  reach  out 
and  touch  the  bush  that  contained  the  nesting 
material,  but  the  little  mother  paid  no  atten- 
tion to  my  presence,  only  to  turn  a  bright 
eye  on  me,  after  she  had  coiled  a  piece  of 
string  or  blade  of  grass  in  the  bottom  of  the 
260 


THE    CHESTNUT  -  SIDED    WARBLER 


nest.  I  think  she  wanted  me  to  criticise  her 
work.  I  usually  told  her  that  it  was  well 
done,  and  so  it  was.  The  bush  was  a  sweet 
pepper  bush,  and  the  nest  was  saddled  be- 
tween the  main  stem  and  two  twigs.  When 
I  first  saw  the  nest  it  was  but  just  begun. 
The  bottom  was  a  small  wad  of  some  gray 
material,  which  I  found  afterward  was  shreds 
of  wool  from  an  old  gray  coat  that  I  had  dis- 
carded. I  placed  grass  and  string  on  my 
knee  and  the  bird's  keen  sight  discovered  it 
at  once.  She  fearlessly  hopped  from  a  twig 
to  my  knee  and  examined  the  material.  She 
was  satisfied  with  the  inspection  and  took 
three  blades  of  grass  to  the  nest.  When  she 
had  coiled  them,  one  stiff  blade  insisted  on 
standing  out  straight.  She  put  this  in  place 
three  times,  but  it  would  straighten  out  each 
time.  She  flew  away  and  returned  immedi- 
ately with  some  spider-web  with  which  she 
fastened  the  blade  of  grass  to  one  of  the 
twigs.  The  male  warbler  swung  from  a  twig 
over  the  nest  and  inspected  the  work.  Once 
he  pulled  out  a  piece  of  string  and  his  wife 
261 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

caught  him  in  the  act,  and  flew  at  him  in 
a  great  rage.  I  put  my  hand  on  the  nest 
and  she  pecked  my  finger  and  scolded  me 
roundly.  After  two  hours'  hard  work,  she 
was  coaxed  away  by  her  mate  and  I  returned 
to  my  writing.  Day  by  day  I  watched  the 
nest  building  until  it  was  finished,  seven  days 
after  it  was  begun.  It  was  lined  with  horse- 
hair. The  little  bird  spent  most  of  the 
seventh  day  in  shaping  the  nest.  She  would 
turn  about,  pressing  the  sides  of  the  nest  with 
her  breast,  until  the  whole  nest  was  made 
firm  and  as  round  as  an  apple.  The  nest  was 
deserted  for  three  days  before  the  first  egg  was 
laid.  Four  eggs,  the  usual  number,  were 
laid,  and  then  I  found  the  mother  bird  on  the 
nest  toward  sunset.  For  the  next  three  days 
she  did  what  all  chestnut-sided  warblers  do, 
sit  on  the  nest  nights  and  roam  about  through 
the  day.  After  this  I  always  found  her  on 
the  nest  until  the  little  ones  were  out.  I 
made  up  my  mind  to  tame  these  young  birds 
so  they  would  come  at  my  call.  I  bred  some 

262 


THE    CHESTNUT  -  SIDED    WARBLER 


meal  worms  and  began  to  feed  them  to  the 
baby  birds.  The  mother  objected  at  first, 
but  after  awhile  she  appeared  to  know  that 
I  would  not  harm  them,  and  she  would  look  on 
while  I  was  passing  the  worms  to  the  birds. 
After  the  young  birds  were  out  of  the  nest, 
and  flying  around  in  the  shrubbery,  I  would 
hunt  them  up.  One  bird  would  come  to  my 
finger  to  eat,  but  the  others  were  shy  and  as 
they  grew  older  they  would  not  remain  for 
the  proffered  worm.  They  all  drifted  away 
to  the  huckleberry  fields  and  I  lost  them  until 
nearly  time  for  migration.  Then  they  came 
to  the  water  in  the  dooryard  to  bathe.  My 
tame  bird  would  take  flies  and  green  worms 
from  my  hand  as  of  old,  but  the  three  others 
preferred  to  feed  themselves.  When  the 
birds  returned  in  migration  the  next  spring, 
I  hunted  high  and  low  for  my  tame  warbler 
but  did  not  find  him.  The  warblers  that  nest 
along  the  old  road  are  quite  tame  for  wild 
birds.  They  will  come  within  four  feet  of  an 
observer.  They  have  attracted  the  attention 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

of  visitors  by  this  trait.  I  think  many  of 
these  tame  birds  are  the  descendants  of  my 
little  bird  friend  that  for  sixteen  years  has 
consecrated  my  cabin  dooryard. 


264 


BLUE    JAYS. 


XVI. 
INSTINCT 

INSTINCT  is  the  overworked  and  much 
abused  word  of  many  writers.  As  applied 
to  the  wild  things,  we  often  stumble  on  to 
the  terms,  instinct  of  direction,  instinct  of 
migration,  instinct  of  song,  instinct  of  nest 
building,  and  so  on.  Webster  gives  several 
definitions  as  to  the  meaning  of  instinct.  The 
following  covers  the  ground: 

"  An  instinct  is  an  agent  which  performs 
blindly  and  ignorantly  a  work  of  intelligence 
and  knowledge." 

To  gather  acorns  in  the  balmy  days  of 
October  and  store  them  for  the  cold  of  winter, 
is  a  work  of  intelligence  and  knowledge. 
Can  we  believe  that  the  blue  jays  and  squir- 
rels perform  this  work  blindly  and  ignorantly  ? 
265 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 


If  they  do,  then  the  storing  of  a  single  nut 
would  be  a  miracle.  Watch  a  red  squirrel 
while  gathering  acorns  and  note  carefully 
his  intelligent  acts.  If  there  is  a  clear  spot 
beneath  the  oak  he  drops  the  acorns  on  to  it, 
even  if  he  has  to  carry  each  nut  from  one 
side  to  the  other  of  the  tree.  Note  how  care- 
fully he  selects  the  fruit:  no  wormy  nuts  are 
wanted.  In  fact,  he  exercises  the  same 
thoughtful  care  that  a  human  being  would 
exercise  under  like  conditions.  Does  he  do 
the  work  blindly? 

Instinct,  as  applied  to  the  lives  of  wild 
animals,  is  such  an  elusive  and  meaningless 
term,  that  it  is  a  pity  it  should  be  used  so 
often  by  writers  on  natural  history.  The 
word  "  instinct  "  savors  of  the  supernatural, 
and  was  invented  in  ancient  times  to  separate 
man  from  the  brute,  when  the  lower  animals 
were  supposed  to  lack  reason.  The  word 
"  heredity  "  is  a  far  better  word,  for  it  ren- 
ders intelligible  all  of  fact  that  the  word 
"  instinct  "  implies,  without  resort  to  imagina- 
tion and  the  supernatural. 


INSTINCT 

It  is  claimed  by  some  writers  that  the  sense 
of  direction  is  an  instinct  which  guides  birds 
in  migration.  As  one  writer  states  it: 
"  They  may  be  frightened  and  become  con- 
fused, as  by  being  frequently  shot  at,  but 
once  beyond  the  danger-line,  their  instinct 
regains  control,  and  they  will  resume  their 
journey  in  a  direct  line  for  their  ultimate 
destination,  and  that,  too,  without  stopping 
to  think  which  way  is  the  right  way." 

If  this  were  true,  if  birds  could  launch 
themselves  into  the  air  and  go  South  without 
thought,  and,  if  turned  aside,  miraculously 
regain  their  course  without  a  thought  as  to 
the  right  way,  then  indeed  would  I  be  forced 
to  admit  the  supernatural,  to  acknowledge 
that  the  days  of  miracles  were  not  past,  but  it 
would  upset  all  my  preconceived  ideas  of 
Dame  Nature  and  her  laws. 

Really,  before  we  resort  to  miracles  to  ex- 
plain migration,  would  it  not  be  well  to  turn 
to  natural  laws  —  laws  that  are  explained 
by  intelligent  thought  after  careful  obser- 
vation ? 

267 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

I  have  ever  found  the  birds  as  intelligent 
in  relation  to  the  needs  of  their  lives  as  we 
are  to  our  lives.  Migration  is  not  an  excep- 
tion to  the  rule. 

If  man  migrates  he  does  so  intelligently. 
Why  not  grant  to  birds  the  same  faculty? 

For  the  sake  of  illustration  we  will  take 
the  swallows,  birds  known  to  all,  and  de- 
scribe their  method  of  migration.  Remember, 
that  the  old  birds  have  been  South,  that  they 
know  the  way  and  do  not  doubt  their  ability 
to  pilot  the  young  birds  to  the  new  home. 
They  also  know,  from  experience,  the  perils 
and  hardships  of  a  long  flight  while  battling 
with  wind  and  weather.  Full  well  they  know 
that  young  birds,  just  out  of  the  nest,  would 
not  last  a  day's  flight  if  raw  and  untrained. 
So  they  intelligently  proceed  to  train  the 
young  birds  into  a  suitable  condition.  Early 
in  the  morning,  after  the  young  are  fed,  they 
are  marshalled  along  the  wires  and  fences 
and  drilled  in  the  art  of  flying.  At  first  they 
fly  in  small  squads,  just  a  family  group, 
but  later  they  gather  into  companies  and 
268 


INSTINCT 

practise  until  the  companies  are  massed  in 
one  grand  army  corps.  When  the  young 
birds  are  thoroughly  drilled,  that  is,  are  hard 
of  muscle  and  capable  of  keeping  their  place 
in  the  ranks,  to  touch  elbows,  as  it  were,  the 
old  birds  are  ready  to  lead  the  way  South. 
To  avoid  straggling  the  departure  is  made 
in  the  night. 

Up  to  this  point  we  see  no  indications  of 
instinct.  The  acts  of  the  swallows  are  as 
intelligent  as  would  be  the  acts  of  human 
beings  under  like  circumstances.  If  a  gen- 
eral had  raw  recruits  to  deal  with  he  would 
drill  them  just  as  the  swallows  drill  their 
raw  recruits. 

Perhaps  the  manoeuvres  of  swallows  gave 
mankind  the  idea  of  military  tactics. 

When  we  consider  the  journey  of  these 
birds  South,  why  should  we  claim  that  their 
acts  are  guided  by  a  supernatural  power? 
Why  not  allow  intelligence  in  flight  as  well 
as  in  preparing  for  flight? 

We  can  readily  understand  how  the  old 
birds,  that  have  made  several  journeys  and 
269 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

must  be  familiar  with  all  the  landmarks,  may 
make  the  journey  without  the  aid  of  a  super- 
natural power. 

We  must  remember  that  the  sense  of  sight 
in  birds  is  developed  to  a  degree  unknown 
to  mankind.  It  often  happens  that  I  startle 
a  ruffed  grouse  from  its  perch  in  the  night. 
In  such  case  it  hurls  itself  through  the  shrub- 
bery with  amazing  speed.  When  I  think  of 
the  keenness  of  sight  that  enables  this  bird 
to  avoid  twigs  and  limbs,  I  know  that  my 
sight  is  nothing  but  blindness  in  comparison. 

Some  birds  fly  high,  and  the  earth  is  like 
a  map  beneath  them,  with  a  well-defined  line 
between  land  and  water.  Birds  that  are 
familiar  with  the  route  ought  to  experience 
no  difficulty  in  finding  the  way.  Even  the 
limited  sight  of  man  would  serve  unless  handi- 
capped by  a  dark,  stormy  night. 

Young  birds  left  to  themselves  will  not 
go  South.  Young  robins  often  get  left  in 
this  vicinity.  They  are  birds  of  the  last 
brood  usually ;  the  parent  birds  are  killed 
before  the  young  learn  to  associate  with  the 
270 


INSTINCT 

flocks  in  the  neighborhood.  They  stay 
through  the  winter  because  they  have  no 
knowledge  of  the  South  and  no  guide  to  lead 
the  way.  Ducks  hatched  under  hens  from 
wild  eggs  will  not  go  South.  I  once  lived 
near  a  farmer  that  hatched  out  six  black 
ducks.  The  farmer  did  not  feed  them,  and 
they  lived  through  the  summer  on  a  trout 
brook.  In  winter  they  huddled  into  a  fence 
corner  under  some  shrubbery.  They  had  no 
instinct  to  send  them  South,  although  their 
flight  feathers  were  perfect;  but  they  pos- 
sessed intelligence  enough  to  seek  the  cattle 
tie-up  for  warmth  whenever  they  found  the 
door  open. 

It  is  assumed  that  the  bee,  the  pigeon,  and 
some  variety  of  ducks,  rise  and  circle  in  the 
air  to  leave  landmarks  "out  of  sight,"  so 
that  this  remarkable  instinct  may  work  more 
freely.  Would  it  not  be  well  to  apply  natural 
laws  to  these  cases?  Suppose  we  infer  that 
these  animals  rise  and  circle  to  find  familiar 
landmarks,  just  as  a  human  being  would  act 
if  he  had  the  power  of  flight  and  had  lost 
271 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

his  way.  Human  beings  climb  trees,  when 
lost,  to  look  for  landmarks.  Why  should  we 
deny  to  bees  and  birds  the  very  methods  we 
make  use  of  whenever  the  occasion  requires? 

As  to  bees,  I  do  know  that  they  circle  to  find 
landmarks.  After  years  spent  in  hunting, 
or  "  lining  bees,"  as  we  call  the  sport  in 
Maine,  I  can  speak  with  no  uncertain  knowl- 
edge. The  power  to  circle  in  search  of  land- 
marks is  limited.  If  a  bee  is  carried  too  far 
from  its  hive,  beyond  its  power  to  circle  and 
find  landmarks,  it  is  lost  and  never  returns 
to  the  hive.  I  have  proved  this  time  after 
time.  The  carrier-pigeon's  power  to  circle 
is  a  most  remarkable  feature,  but  neverthe- 
less it  has  its  limit.  Pigeons  that  are  used  for 
long-distance  flight  are  trained  over  the  whole 
distance  in  short  flights,  so  the  bird  may  be- 
come familiar  with  landmarks. 

Our  dogs  and  cats  that  return  to  us  when 
carried  sightless  to  a  distance,  may  return 
through  the  sense  of  smell.  Cape  Ann  fisher- 
men tell  me  that  dogs  scent  the  land  fifty  miles 
at  sea.  If  we  grant  to  animals  the  power 
272 


INSTINCT 

of  observation  which  we  possess,  and  then  take 
into  consideration  their  keen  sense  of  smell, 
we  can  account  for  many  things  that  seem 
mysterious.  However,  dogs  and  cats  are  lost 
every  day  in  the  week. 

Nest  building  is  said  to  be  instinctive,  but 
I  shall  have  to  take  exceptions  to  the  state- 
ment. I  do  not  deny  that  the  art  is  heredi- 
tary, and  that  a  young  bird  confined  might 
essay  to  build  something  for  a  nest,  but  I  do 
deny  that  the  selection  of  straws  is  under 
the  influence  of  instinct.  I  believe  young 
birds  examine  the  nest  in  which  they  are 
reared  intelligently,  and  are  educated  by 
their  parents  in  part  in  the  selection  of  ma- 
terial. I  once  saw  an  old  catbird  give  her 
young  daughter  a  lesson  in  nest  building. 
The  young  catbird  had  carried  a  large  quan- 
tity of  rootlets  from  my  garden  to  a  patch 
of  catbrier.  She  had  placed  it  so  loosely 
that  a  good  breeze  would  have  upset  the 
whole  affair.  While  I  was  looking  on  won- 
dering what  the  bird  would  do  if  the  wind 
should  rise,  the  old  catbird,  the  young 
273 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

bird's  mother,  happened  along  to  inspect  the 
work.  The  moment  she  saw  the  shaky  struc- 
ture she  tumbled  it  on  to  the  ground.  Then 
she  laid  a  foundation  that  no  breeze  could 
dislodge.  Her  selection  of  rootlets  long 
enough  to  bridge  the  spaces  was  something 
wonderful.  I  did  not  see  her  make  a  mistake. 
If  she  picked  up  a  rootlet  a  hair's  breadth 
short,  she  dropped  it  for  another  of  the  right 
length.  After  she  had  laid  a  secure  founda- 
tion, she  left  the  young  bird  to  her  own  skill 
and  judgment.  When  the  bird  had  completed 
the  nest,  it  was  as  large  as  a  four-quart 
measure.  It  was  made  up  of  varied  mate- 
rials. Newspaper  and  cloth  afforded  the 
larger  amount.  A  departure  was  the  skin 
of  a  garter  snake  woven  into  the  brim.  A 
few  years  ago  I  found  a  catbird's  nest  orna- 
mented with  a  snake-skin,  and  the  two  in- 
stances are  the  only  ones  of  all  my  obser- 
vations. 

To  read  some  of  our  books  on  ornithology, 
would  lead  one  to  suppose  that  birds  of  the 
same  species  constructed  nests  exactly  alike, 
274 


WOOD    THRUSH. 


INSTINCT 

but  the  fact  is,  that  no  two  nests  are  alike. 
A  bird  will  improve  in  nest  building,  usually, 
with  age.  I  have  a  little  friend,  a  chestnut- 
sided  warbler,  that  has  constructed  twenty- 
three  nests  since  I  made  her  acquaintance. 
As  I  remember  them  the  last  nest  is  the  neat- 
est and  most  substantial.  Some  have  been 
made  almost  wholly  of  rags.  Chickadees 
have  adopted  cotton-batting,  and  call  for  it 
if  I  neglect  to  keep  it  in  the  dooryard.  It 
often  happens  that  birds  select  new  material, 
if  handy,  instead  of  hunting  the  usual  nest 
building  material.  If  birds  were  guided  by 
instinct  and  did  not  exercise  reason,  they 
would  select  the  same  nesting  material  year 
after  year.  The  habit  would  be  so  securely 
fixed  that  the  bird  would  not  be  tempted  to 
use  new  material,  no  matter  how  plentiful  or 
handy  it  might  be.  The  fact  that  birds  read- 
ily accommodate  themselves  to  new  surround- 
ings, is  proof  positive  that  they  possess  the 
power  to  reason.  I  found  a  nest,  last  season, 
of  the  wood-thrush,  which  was  a  complete  de- 
parture from  the  usual  nest.  The  bulk  of  the 
275 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

nest  was  composed  of  moss,  sphagnum.  It  was 
placed  on  some  bushes  of  the  black-alder  which 
the  snow  had  bent  down.  Instead  of  mud  the 
bird  had  used  a  black  soil,  and  the  nest  was 
lined  with  horsehair.  The  horsehair,  moss, 
and  black  mold  were  all  near  the  nest.  If  I 
had  found  the  nest  after  the  young  had  left 
it,  it  would  have  proved  a  puzzle  for  me.  As 
it  was,  the  old  bird  was  on  the  nest  when  I 
found  it  and  so  gave  me  the  clue. 

Young  birds  are  taught  to  sing  by  the  old 
males.  This  is  true  of  the  birds  that  have 
come  under  my  observation.  Even  the  grouse 
teaches  the  young  to  drum.  This  is  done 
soon  after  dark  in  the  fall  of  the  year.  From 
my  hammock  I  often  hear  these  lessons.  The 
old  grouse  makes  the  woods  ring  with  his 
drumming.  Then  he  rests  while  the  young 
grouse  try  a  hand.  Their  efforts  are  not  a 
success,  and  the  old  bird  again  shows  them 
how  to  do  it.  Some  nights  this  will  go  on 
for  two  hours. 

There  is  a  test  that  any  one  can  try,  to 

276 


INSTINCT 

prove  that  song  is  educational  and  not  in- 
stinctive. 

Go  into  the  woods  inhabited  by  the  wood- 
thrush,  and  sit  down  and  listen.  It  will  soon 
be  evident  that  you  have  invited  yourself  to 
a  bird's  singing  school. 

In  a  party  of  summer  residents  from  Mag- 
nolia, there  was  one  lady  who  told  me  she 
had  no  patience  with  my  views  on  song.  That 
a  bird  would  sing,  anyway,  because  it  had 
a  throat  adapted  to  song.  She  said  that  when 
I  heard  birds  sing  out  of  season,  I  would  claim 
that  they  were  teaching  their  young,  when  in 
fact  they  were  only  exercising  their  voices 
without  a  thought  of  teaching.  When  they 
were  ready  to  return  to  Magnolia,  I  offered 
to  show  them  a  path  through  the  woods,  a 
new  way  to  them.  When  I  had  reached  a  spot 
where  I  knew  there  was  a  family  of  wood- 
thrushes,  I  ordered  a  rest.  When  we  had 
become  quiet  the  old  thrush  tuned  up  and 
gave  us  the  song.  It  is  a  short  song,  but 
loud,  clear,  and  flute-like.  There  was  no 
wind,  and  the  song  appeared  to  be  sweeter  and 
277 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

louder  than  usual.  When  the  old  thrush  had 
ceased,  one  young  bird  after  another  took  up 
the  strain.  Some  would  give  one  note,  others 
two  or  three  notes.  Some  notes  would  be 
hoarse,  others  would  be  shrill.  After  awhile 
the  birds  would  forget  the  lesson  and  drop 
out  one  after  the  other.  When  all  were  silent, 
the  old  thrush  would  again  give  them  the  right 
pitch  and  tone,  and  again  the  young  thrushes 
tried  to  imitate  the  singer.  For  two  hours  we 
sat  there  and  listened.  The  lady  had  to  admit 
that  the  old  bird  was  giving  the  young  birds 
a  lesson.  Yet  she  claimed  that  the  thrush 
was  an  exception.  I  was  glad  that  she  was 
ready  to  admit  that  one  bird  of  a  species  was 
intelligent.  I  told  her  that  when  she  had 
devoted  two  hours  to  all  the  other  birds  she 
would  be  converted  to  my  faith. 

Of  all  the  thrushes  the  Hermit  is  my  fa- 
vorite. Not  because  he  is  a  namesake,  but 
for  the  reason  that  his  is  one  of  the  beautiful 
bird-songs  woven  into  the  memory  of  my  boy- 
hood days.  I  see  him  here  only  in  migration. 
The  last  of  March  or  first  of  April,  I  see 
278 


THE    HERMIT    THRUSH. 


INSTINCT 


the  bird,  and  hear  the  sweet  "  Tu-le,  tu-li-le." 
A  beautiful  strain,  but  only  the  prelude  to 
the  true  song,  which  is  seldom  heard  away 
from  their  summer  home.  Years  ago  I  wrote 
the  following  description  of  the  song  of  the 
hermit-thrush : 

"  To  me  the  song  of  the  hermit-thrush  is 
the  sweetest  sound  in  nature.  It  is  not  a  plain- 
tive, pensive,  or  tender  strain,  but  satisfies  the 
senses  and  clings  to  the  memory  like  the 
recollection  of  some  great  joy. 

"  I  shall  never  forget  a  song  I  once  heard 
in  the  woods  of  northern  Maine.  I  was  in  a 
bark-peeling  camp  at  the  time.  A  rainy 
day  had  sent  the  crew  to  their  homes  in  the 
settlement  until  the  next  morning;  and  I 
was  left  alone. 

"  The  rain  poured  down  in  torrents.  The 
wind  howled  and  roared  through  the  tree-tops, 
flinging  great  sheets  of  water  on  to  the  bark 
roof  of  the  camp.  My  spirits  were  depressed 
and  gloomy.  Financial  troubles,  the  loss  of  a 
cherished  home,  had  disheartened  me,  and  life 
seemed  hardly  worth  living. 
279 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

"  Just  before  night  the  rain  suddenly 
ceased.  The  sun  burst  through  the  clouds, 
and  the  wind  completely  died  out.  Save  for 
the  sound  of  dropping  water,  the  forest  was 
silent  and  solemn.  A  glowing  sunset,  paint- 
ing all  the  clouds  of  the  western  sky,  aroused 
me  from  my  miserable  thoughts.  Just  then 
the  song  of  the  hermit-thrush  floated  up  from 
a  neighboring  swamp.  Clear  and  pure  the 
flute-like  notes  slowly  echoed  through  the  silent 
woods.  The  moist  and  hollow  atmosphere 
magnified  the  slightest  sound,  and  I  could 
distinguish  the  fine  trills  which  form  a  part 
of  this  famous  song.  '  O,  phee-re-al,  phee- 
re-al!  '  represents  the  strain  as  near  as  I  can 
give  it  in  words. 

"  I  would  that  I  were  able  to  express  in 
fitting  language  the  feelings  with  which  I  am 
inspired  when  I  listen  to  the  song  of  the 
hermit-thrush.  It  satisfies  rny  sense  of  the 
beautiful  as  no  other  song  can.  And  yet  I 
am  never  quite  satisfied.  There  is  something 
I  do  not  understand.  Something  beyond  me, 
a  shadowy  mystery.  After  I  have  listened  to 
280 


INSTINCT 

the  strain,  and  while  its  memory  still  lingers, 
I  find  myself  longing  to  know  the  whole 
secret  of  its  charm.  However,  years  ago  I 
settled  the  matter  in  my  mind  and  note-book, 
as  the  following  entry  will  show :  *  The  song 
of  the  hermit-thrush  is  the  Spirit  of  Nature 
chanting  the  mystery  of  life.  When  the  mys- 
tery is  solved  we  shall  understand  the  song.' 

"  Day  faded  into  twilight,  and  twilight  into 
night,  and  still  that  exalted  anthem  solemnly 
pealed  through  the  forest.  It  was  after  ten 
o'clock  when  the  strain  died  out  in  a  few 
broken  notes. 

"  Thanks  to  the  hermit-thrush,  my  thoughts 
were  turned  into  a  new  and  healthy  channel. 
I  fell  asleep  that  night  on  my  fragrant  bed 
of  fir-boughs,  at  peace  with  the  whole  world." 


281 


XVII. 


THE    CHICKADEES 

THE  chickadees  are  with  me  the  year 
through.  In  winter  they  collect  into  a  flock 
and  remain  near  the  cabin,  but  when  the  snow 
departs,  they  drift  away  in  pairs,  in  search 
of  a  good  nesting  site.  From  this  time,  until 
the  young  birds  are  large  enough  to  fly,  the 
chickadees  come  to  my  cabin  in  pairs.  The 
domestic  life  of  the  chickadee  overflows  with 
love,  joy,  and  devotion.  These  little  birds 
when  once  mated  are  mated  for  life.  There 
is  no  divorce  in  the  bird  family,  from  eagles 
down  to  humming-birds.  It  is  a  rare  treat 
to  watch  a  pair  of  chickadees  in  the  nesting 
season.  I  was  walking  along  the  old  high- 
way last  season,  when  I  heard  one  of  my  chick- 
adees calling  to  me.  This  bird  had  a  way  of 
282 


THE    CHICKADEES 

calling  "  Dee,  dee,  dee  "  whenever  she  met  me 
in  the  woods.  I  usually  carry  food  along, 
and  she  would  come  to  my  hand  and  help 
herself.  After  she  had  satisfied  her  appetite, 
she  flew  down  the  side-hill  to  Magnolia  Swamp. 
I  followed  her,  and  found  her  mate  excavating 
a  nest  in  a  small  dead  paper-birch.  I  expect 
that  his  wife  told  him  that  I  was  coming,  but 
he  did  not  quit  work  for  five  minutes.  When 
I  had  approached,  he  bobbed  his  head  out 
of  the  entrance,  but  instantly  returned  to  his 
work.  When  he  did  come  out,  he  appeared 
hungry,  and  attacked  a  doughnut  with  vigor, 
winding  up  with  hemp-seed.  From  the  way 
the  birds  attacked  food,  it  was  evident  that 
they  would  have  had  to  seek  the  cabin  soon, 
if  I  had  not  happened  along. 

I  talk  to  the  chickadees  as  I  would  to  human 
beings,  so  when  I  had  seated  myself  on  a 
boulder,  within  four  feet  of  the  nest,  I  told 
my  friends  that  I  was  making  them  a  friendly 
call,  and  begged  them  to  keep  right  on  with 
their  work.  The  chickadees  said  something 
to  me  in  reply,  and  may  have  understood 
283 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

what  I  said  to  them,  for  they  returned  at  once 
to  enlarging  the  hole  in  the  birch.  The  hole 
in  the  paper-birch,  which  formed  the  entrance, 
was  one  inch  and  one  eighth  in  diameter,  and 
round  as  it  could  well  be.  The  depth  was  six 
inches,  and  the  birds  were  at  work  in  the 
bottom  making  the  hole  deeper.  While  the 
husband  was  eating  his  breakfast,  the  little 
wife  was  down  in  the  hole,  and  I  could  hear 
the  blows  of  her  sharp  bill.  After  breakfast, 
the  husband  flew  to  the  entrance  and  called 
to  his  wife.  She  bobbed  out  and  he  bobbed 
in.  Instead  of  resting,  she  occupied  the  time 
with  eating  hemp-seed.  At  the  end  of  three 
minutes,  the  mate  appeared  with  a  piece  of 
dead  wood  in  his  bill.  He  flung  the  wood  one 
side,  and  disappeared  calling  his  mate.  She 
flew  to  the  entrance,  and,  clinging  to  the  edge 
of  the  hole,  she  reached  down  inside  and 
brought  up  a  bill-full  of  chippings,  which  she 
dropped  outside.  This  was  followed  up  until 
the  chippings  were  exhausted.  Then  the  male 
hammered  away,  while  the  female  ate  some 
more  hemp-seed.  Three  minutes  later  he  came 
284 


THE    CHICKADEES 


out  for  a  rest,  and  the  female  took  his  place. 
The  birds  appeared  to  work  under  a  regular 
system,  for  the  little  wife  came  to  the  mouth 
of  the  hole  and  called  her  husband;  he 
clung  to  the  edge  and  reached  inside  for  chip- 
pings,  just  as  his  wife  did.  The  bird  inside 
must  have  passed  the  chippings  up  to  the  bird 
outside.  Quite  a  scheme  to  save  labor. 

From  time  to  time  I  visited  this  nest  to 
inspect  the  work.  When  the  hole  was  about 
nine  inches  in  depth,  the  birds  put  in  the  nest- 
ing material.  If  these  birds  had  not  become 
partly  domesticated,  the  foundation  of  the 
nest  would  have  been  moss  (Sphagnum), 
with  a  lining  of  fur  or  grouse  feathers.  My 
chickadees  have  changed  the  nesting  habit, 
using  nothing  but  cotton-batting  for  founda- 
tion and  lining.  Eight  eggs  were  laid  in  this 
nest,  and  every  one  hatched. 

The  flock  of  chickadees  that  have  gathered 
at  my  cabin  this  winter  for  food  will  number 
about  fifty.  They  are  so  tame  that  they  enter 
the  cabin  and  eat  from  the  table.  One  bird 
has  demonstrated  to  me  that  she  possesses 
285 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

a  keen  memory  and  an  intelligence  that  is 
phenomenal.  For  four  winters  she  has  made 
it  a  practice  to  rap  on  the  window  when  she 
is  hungry,  or  desires  to  come  in  the  cabin. 
Her  method,  followed  each  day,  is  peculiar. 
She  raps  if  I  am  inside,  and  not  otherwise. 
If  I  am  sitting  outside,  she  never  approaches 
the  window.  It  is  evident  that  she  raps  to 
attract  my  attention.  After  rapping,  she 
goes  to  the  door  and  waits  for  me.  If  I  do 
not  respond,  she  returns  to  the  window  and 
raps  again,  louder  than  before.  She  waits 
at  the  door  a  short  time,  and  if  I  do  not  come, 
she  returns  to  the  window  and  stays  right 
there,  and  raps  vigorously  all  the  time.  Not 
only  is  it  peculiar  that  she  is  intelligent  enough 
to  know  that  she  can  attract  my  attention, 
but  it  is  also  peculiar  that  she  can  remember 
from  one  winter  to  another  how  to  go  through 
the  intelligent  act. 

One   of   my   bird-loving   friends,   the   late 
"  Frank  Bolles,"   for  many  years  the  secre- 
tary of  Harvard  College,  was  telling  me  of 
the    intelligence    of    the    chickadees    around 
286 


THE    CHICKADEES 

Chocorua.  I  told  him  that  my  chickadees 
could  count  four.  Mr.  Bolles  laughed,  and 
said :  "  I  am  quite  a  bird  crank,  but  I  think 
I  will  have  to  draw  the  line  at  counting. 
What  have  you  for  proof?"  I  called  his 
attention  to  the  method  employed  by  the 
chickadees  when  eating  hemp-seed.  Not  hav- 
ing the  stout  cone  bill  of  the  finch  family,  a 
chickadee  was  obliged  to  hold  a  seed  between 
its  toes  and  beat  off  the  hull,  to  get  at  the 
meat.  A  chickadee  would  fly  into  the  -door- 
yard  after  a  hemp-seed,  then  fly  to  a  small 
twig,  and,  holding  the  seed  between  its  toes, 
hammer  away  until  the  meat  was  threshed  out. 
Some  of  the  old  birds  would  carry  away  as 
many  as  four  seeds.  These  birds  let  their 
brains  save  their  wings.  When  a  bird  carried 
away  four  seeds,  three  were  usually  placed 
in  the  rough  bark  of  a  limb  until  wanted. 
I  fed  the  chickadees,  and  a  dozen  or  more 
were  soon  busy  taking  seed  from  the  door- 
yard.  A  pet  bird,  of  long  standing,  was 
pointed  out  to  Mr.  Bolles  as  one  that  could 
count  four.  The  bird  picked  up  four  seeds, 
287 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

and  flew  to  a  limb  over  my  head.  Near  the 
bole  of  the  tree  she  deposited  three  seeds,  and 
took  the  fourth  one  to  a  small  twig,  about 
eight  feet  away.  Before  she  got  through  with 
the  first  seed,  I  pushed  one  of  the  three  off 
the  limb.  Mr.  Bolles  scouted  the  idea  that  the 
bird  would  miss  the  seed  on  the  ground.  After 
the  bird  had  disposed  of  three  seeds,  it  hunted 
in  the  bark  of  the  limb  at  first,  and  then 
dropped  to  the  ground  and  found  the  miss- 
ing seed.  If  two  seeds  were  pushed  off,  the 
chickadee  would  hunt  for  both.  Mr.  Bolles 
admitted  that  the  bird  could  count  four,  and 
possibly  more  than  that  number  if  it  was 
necessary. 

Mr.  Bolles  was  the  author  of  several  books 
on  outdoor  life.  He  possessed  a  delightful 
style,  reminding  one  of  John  Burroughs. 
I  will  quote  from  his  book,  "  From  Blomidon 
to  Smoky,"  a  record  of  a  visit  to  my  cabin : 

"  I  have  a  friend  who  lives  alone,  summer 
and  winter,  in  a  tiny  hut  amid  the  woods. 
The  doctors  told  him  he  must  die,  so  he  es- 
caped from  them  to  Nature,  made  his  peace 
288 


THE    CHICKADEES 


with  her,  and  regained  his  health.  To  the 
wild  creatures  of  the  pasture,  the  oak  woods, 
and  the  swamps  he  is  no  longer  a  man,  but 
•a  faun ;  he  is  one  of  their  own  kind,  —  shy, 
alert,  silent.  They,  having  learned  to  trust 
him,  have  come  a  little  nearer  to  men.  I  once 
went  to  his  hut  when  he  was  absent,  and 
stretched  myself  in  the  sunlight  by  his  tiny 
doorstep.  Presently,  two  chickadees  came  to 
a  box  of  bird-seed,  swinging  from  the  pine- 
limb  overhead,  and  fed  there,  cracking  the 
seeds  one  by  one  with  their  bills.  Then  from 
the  swamp,  a  pair  of  catbirds  appeared,  and 
fed  upon  crumbs  scattered  over  the  ground 
just  at  my  feet.  A  chipmunk  ran  back  and 
forth  past  them,  coming  almost  within  reach 
of  my  hand;  soon  after  a  song-sparrow 
(Wabbles)  drove  away  the  catbirds,  and  then 
sung  a  little  sotto  voce  song  to  me  before  help- 
ing itself  to  the  crumbs.  When  my  friend 
returned,  he  told  me  the  story  of  this  song- 
sparrow;  how  he  saved  its  life,  and  had  been 
rewarded  by  three  years  of  gratitude,  confi- 
dence, and  affection  on  the  part  of  the  brave 
289 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

little  bird.  He  seemed  fearful  lest  I  should 
think  him  overimaginative  in  recital,  so  he 
gave  me  details  about  the  sparrow  and  its 
ways  which  would  have  convinced  a  jury  of. 
the  bird's  identity  and  strong  individuality. 
The  secret  of  my  friend's  friendship  with 
these  birds  was  that,  by  living  together,  each 
had,  by  degrees,  learned  to  know  the  other." 
The  chickadees  are  great  bird-wags.  In 
various  ways  they  play  tricks  on  other  birds. 
When  there  is  hemp-seed  in  the  box,  the 
chickadees  are  like  a  lot  of  children  turned 
out  of  school.  If  a  tree-sparrow  happens 
along,  he  takes  possession  by  driving  the  other 
birds  away.  A  saucy  chickadee  will  give  the 
danger-call,  which  sounds  to  me  like  "  butcher 
bird,  butcher  bird."  The  tree-sparrow  darts 
into  the  bushes  and  the  chickadees  pile  onto 
the  seed-box.  The  sparrow  finding  that  there 
is  no  enemy  about  soon  returns  to  the  seed- 
box.  Inside  of  three  minutes  the  same,  or 
another  chickadee,  gives  the  alarm  and  away 
goes  the  sparrow  into  the  bushes.  This  time 
he  knows  that  he  has  been  fooled,  so  when  he 
290 


THE    CHICKADEES 

comes  back  he  chases  the  chickadee  through 
the  trees  around  the  dooryard.  The  chick- 
adee is  too  quick  for  the  sparrow;  he  darts 
this  way  and  that,  laughing  and  shouting 
at  the  top  of  his  voice.  The  other  chickadees 
do  a  lot  of  laughing  and  shouting  too,  at  the 
same  time  they  attend  to  the  seed-box.  The 
sparrow  always  flies  away  when  he  hears  the 
danger-call.  I  suppose  he  thinks  it  better 
to  be  safe  than  to  be  sorry. 

Several  years  ago  I  placed  a  box  in  the 
top  of  an  oak-tree,  thinking  that  bluebirds 
might  be  induced  to  nest  therein.  While  I 
was  nailing  the  box  to  a  limb,  a  pair  of  chick- 
adees had  overlooked  the  work.  These  chick- 
adees were  old  friends,  and  naturally  thought 
that  I  was  making  a  nest  for  their  benefit. 
The  next  day  when  I  had  returned  from  the 
city,  I  found  the  birds  engaged  in  carrying 
cotton  batting  into  the  box.  These  chick- 
adees were  old  and  had  made  four  nests, 
so  the  selection  of  a  box  and  cotton  batting 
was  a  marked  departure  from  the  regular 
nesting  habit.  While  the  little  lady  was  sit- 
291 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

ting  I  made  it  a  practice  every  day  to  climb 
the  tree  and  offer  her  food.  When  I  had 
turned  the  cover  back  the  bird  would  flutter 
her  wings  as  young  birds  do  when  begging 
food.  But  the  little  wife  would  take  no  food 
from  me  if  her  husband  was  present.  She 
would  call  to  him  "  chip,  chip,"  and  he  would 
hop  to  me  for  food.  When  he  got  it,  he  would 
feed  his  wife,  while  she  fluttered  her  wings 
and  acted  like  a  young  bird.  When  eight 
little  chicks  thrust  up  their  open  bills  for 
food,  the  parents  appeared  brimful  of  joy 
and  happiness.  They  rushed  around  in 
search  of  food,  calling  to  each  other  all  the 
time.  I  climbed  the  tree  one  day  at  noontime. 
The  young  birds  were  full  grown.  I  took 
one  in  my  hand  and  the  mother  said  some- 
thing to  me  in  her  language.  I  thought 
that  she  asked  me  if  the  bird  was  old  enough 
to  leave  the  nest.  I  told  her  it  was,  and  the 
sooner  they  got  out  the  better,  for  the  nest 
was  too  small  and  was  hot  besides.  That 
noon  I  went  over  to  Cedar  Swamp,  and  did 
not  return  until  after  sunset.  When  I  had 
292 


THE    CHICKADEES 

reached  the  cabin  the  chickadees  hopped  to 
my  shoulder  and  in  heartrending  bird  lan- 
guage tried  to  tell  me  that  something  had 
happened  to  their  babies.  I  climbed  the  tree 
and  found  the  nest  empty.  On  a  boulder  I 
had  placed  a  pair  of  rubber  boots  to  dry  One 
of  the  boots  was  missing.  Two  boys  had 
robbed  the  chickadees  and  had  carried  away 
the  young  birds  in  the  rubber  boot.  The 
bereaved  birds  remained  near  the  cabin  all 
night,  and  I  did  not  sleep,  because  they  talked 
to  me  in  the  most  pitiful  language  I  had  ever 
heard  from  a  bird.  The  next  day  I  traced  the 
wretched  thieves,  but  the  little  birds  were  dead. 

Before  leaving  the  chickadees,  I  wish  to 
mention  something  that  has  impressed  itself 
upon  my  mind,  during  the  last  eighteen  years. 
That  is,  that  the  chackadees  would  make  de- 
sirable park -birds.  Compare  these  busy 
little  birds  with  the  English  sparrow,  and  one 
can  but  feel  sorry  that  we  imported  the  alien, 
when  we  already  possessed  the  native. 

A  flock  of  my  chickadees,  if  removed  to 
Boston  Common,  would  thrive  and  increase 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

rapidly,  and  from  a  small  beginning  all  the 
parks  of  the  country  could  be  stocked.  The 
chickadees  rear  two  broods  in  a  season,  usually 
eight  in  a  brood.  These  birds  hunt  the  trees 
for  insect  life,  while  the  undesirable  alien 
hunts  the  streets  for  indigested  food.  Con- 
trast the  quarrelsome  "  chirps  "  of  the  one, 
with  the  cheery  "  chickadee,  chickadee  "  of 
the  other.  Then  the  mating-song.  How  it 
would  fit  into  the  glorious  spring  mornings. 
This  song  is  called  the  "  phebe  note  of  the 
chickadee  "  by  many  writers.  The  only  rea- 
son that  explains  why  this  name  clings  to  the 
chickadee's  song,  is  that  some  early  writer 
adopted  it,  and  later  writers  followed  suit 
without  taking  pains  to  investigate.  There 
is  as  great  difference  between  the  two  as  there 
is  between  black  and  white.  The  song  of  the 
phebe-bird  is  in  two  notes,  delivered  in  a 
querulous,  plaintive  tone,  while  that  of  the 
chickadee  is  in  three  notes,  as  loud  and  cheery 
as  the  whistle  of  WhiUier's  "  Barefoot  boy." 
"  Tea's  ready,"  it  seems  to  say,  with  the 
accent  on  the  first  syllable. 
294 


XVIII. 
TRIPLEFOOT 

I  OPENED  up  my  cabin  one  winter  morning, 
at  daylight,  to  find  the  dooryard  covered  with 
two  inches  of  light  snow.  A  mass  of  fox 
tracks  centred  about  a  piece  of  meat,  which 
was  nailed  to  the  trunk  of  a  pine-tree.  When 
the  fox  left,  about  daylight,  it  went  down 
the  old  highway,  and  this  is  the  trail  it  made : 


Two  tracks  started  from  a  cluster  near 
the  meat,  followed  by  a  space,  then  three 
tracks  followed  by  another  space,  and  so  on, 
in  regular  order,  three  tracks  and  a  space. 
I  had  no  difficulty  in  solving  the  mystery. 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 


The  fox  had  been  trapped  sometime  in  the 
past,  and  had  regained  its  liberty  by  the 
loss  of  a  foot.  The  space  in  the  trail  repre- 
sented the  missing  foot.  This  fox  was  no 
stranger  to  my  dooryard,  and  months  before 
I  had  named  her  Triplefoot,  because  she  trav- 
elled on  three  feet.  She  had  a  charmed  life, 
for  the  fox-hunters  had  failed  in  their  efforts 
to  shoot  her,  so  far,  although  for  over 
a  year  she  was  the  only  fox  in  this  locality, 
and  the  hounds  hazed  her  night  and  day. 

After  breakfast  I  started  on  Triplefoot's 
trail.  There  was  a  good  tracking  snow,  and 
I  was  determined  to  trail  the  fox  to  her  den. 
The  trail  led  down  the  old  highway,  but 
turned  off  to  visit  Solomon's  Orchard.  This 
was  a  spot  containing  two  ruined  cellars,  a 
large  clump  of  barberry-bushes,  and  some 
wild  apple-trees,  descendants  of  a  cultivated 
orchard.  The  fox  did  some  foraging  under 
the  barberry  bushes,  and  a  drop  or  two  of 
blood  on  the  snow  indicated  that  she  was 
successful  in  capturing  a  wood-mouse.  While 
I  was  looking  for  the  trail  out  of  the  orchard, 


TRIPLEFOOT 


I  heard  two  hounds  give  tongue,  and  the  tone 
told  me  that  they  were  hot  on  the  trail.  These 
hounds  had  come  up  the  old  highway,  and 
had  struck  the  fox's  trail  just  south  of  Solo- 
mon's Orchard.  Triplefoot  had  scented  the 
hounds,  and  turned  to  the  west,  into  Mag- 
nolia Swamp.  I  pushed  my  way  through  the 
dense  shrubbery,  the  tracks  of  two  dogs  and 
a  fox  making  a  well-defined  trail.  The  trail 
led  through  the  swamp  and  over  the  ridge 
to  Wallace's  Pond.  The  trail  crossed  on  the 
ice,  and  led  me  over  Magnolia  Avenue,  just 
below  the  lily-pond.  I  had  come  to  the  con- 
clusion that  Triplefoot  was  hunting  water, 
so  as  to  throw  the  hounds  of  the  scent.  The 
cold  weather  was  against  her.  All  the  brooks 
and  ponds  were  covered  with  ice.  The  trail, 
after  it  crossed  the  road,  led  along  the  ridges 
to  Mount  Ann.  From  this  point  the  fox 
had  shaped  her  course  to  Coffin's  Beach.  It 
was  a  long,  weary  tramp,  but  I  had  enlisted 
and  was  bound  to  see  it  through. 

When   I   had   reached   the   sand-dunes   of 
Coffin's  Beach,  I  found  the  snow  had  melted 
297 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

under  the  combined  influence  of  sun  and  sand. 
Here  Triplefoot  had  thrown  the  hounds  off, 
and  had  left  me  out  of  the  hunt,  too.  Not 
a  track  could  be  seen  in  the  shifting  white 
sand.  It  was  an  old  trick  of  the  foxes,  to 
resort  to  the  sand-dunes,  when  there  was  a 
dearth  of  water.  There  was  one  of  two  things 
for  me  to  do ;  give  up  the  hunt  and  go 
home,  or  skirt  the  woods  for  Triplefoot's  trail, 
where  she  had  left  the  beach.  I  decided  on 
the  latter  course,  and,  as  luck  was  with  me, 
found  the  trail  in  less  than  ten  minutes.  The 
fox  returned  by  way  of  Mount  Ann  and 
Dyke's  Meadow,  crossing  Magnolia  Swamp 
south  of  Solomon's  Orchard,  and  took  to  the 
ridges  near  the  old  quarry.  The  den  was 
under  a  big  boulder,  and,  strange  to  tell,  was 
only  eight  minutes'  walk  from  my  cabin.  It 
was  dark  when  I  found  the  den,  so  I  had 
thrown  away  a  whole  day  looking  for  a  thing 
that  was  in  my  own  dooryard,  so  to  speak. 
Triplefoot  reared  a  family  during  the  sea- 
son. In  April  she  stored  two  hens  and  a  grouse 
in  her  den,  so  she  would  not  have  to  hunt 
298 


TRIPLEFOOT 


when  her  cubs  were  born.  I  saw  the  feathers 
of  the  fowls,  and  knew  that  the  wise  creature 
was  putting  food  in  cold  storage  for  a  day 
of  need. 

When  the  fox  cubs  were  old  enough  to  come 
outside  and  play,  I  put  in  many  hours  watch- 
ing them  with  a  good  glass.  There  was  no 
time  that  I  saw  more  than  three,  and  I  think 
that  was  the  size  of  the  family.  There  was 
a  flat  boulder  over  the  den,  which  sloped  from 
the  ground  upward.  I  was  standing  on  this 
boulder  one  eve,  when  one  of  the  cubs  came 
out  of  the  den,  and  was  in  the  act  of  climbing 
the  ledge  when  he  saw  me.  He  stopped,  with 
his  forepaws  on  the  edge  of  the  ledge,  and 
coolly  looked  me  over.  After  he  had  satisfied 
his  curiosity  he  went  into  the  den,  and  im- 
mediately returned  with  one  of  his  mates. 
The  little  imp  had  probably  asked  his  brother 
to  come  out  and  name  the  comical  two-legged 
beast.  The  two  cubs  placed  their  feet  on  the 
ledge  and  looked  at  me  for  two  minutes.  They 
were  not  over  six  feet  from  me,  and  looked 
as  fat  and  stocky  as  two  young  pigs. 
299 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

Triplefoot's  life  was  one  of  worry  and  care, 
to  say  nothing  about  the  danger  from  man- 
kind and  the  hounds.  She  had  to  find  food 
for  her  hungry  cubs,  and  whichever  way  she 
turned,  danger  lurked  on  her  trail.  If  she 
hunted  for  wood-mice,  the  hounds  were  there 
to  pick  up  her  trail.  Then  she  had  to  seek 
water  to  throw  them  off.  It  would  not  do 
to  go  to  the  den,  where  the  hounds  would  soon 
dig  out  her  little  cubs,  and  shake  the  life  from 
their  tender  bodies.  If  she  turned  to  some 
poultry-yard,  the  chances  were  that  she  would 
find  herself  looking  into  the  muzzle  of  the 
farmer's  shotgun.  She  was  desperately  wild, 
and  so  were  the  little  cubs  when  she  was  with 
them.  A  warning  note  from  the  mother 
worked  like  magic.  The  little  ones  would 
crouch  and  creep  to  the  mouth  of  the  den, 
and  disappear  as  silently  as  three  ghosts. 

I  saw  Triplefoot  return  to  the  den  one 
Sunday  morning,  empty-handed.  The  cubs 
came  out  and  whined  pitifully  when  they 
missed  the  Sunday  breakfast.  The  old  fox 
ordered  them  into  the  den,  and  then  took  the 
300 


TRIPLEFOOT 


path  for  Fresh  Water  Cove.  I  knew  that  a 
large  flock  of  hens  ran  in  the  bushes,  near  the 
highway,  and  Triplefoot  knew  it,  too.  In 
twenty  minutes  she  was  back  to  the  den  with  a 
large  hen  over  her  neck.  She  called  her  cubs, 
and  tore  the  hen  to  pieces,  giving  each  cub 
a  piece,  but  reserving  something  for  herself. 
The  dining-room  was  about  thirty  feet  west 
of  the  den.  It  was  under  some  small  hem- 
locks, and  the  ground  was  level  and  smooth. 
When  all  the  foxes  had  had  enough,  there 
was  a  small  piece  left.  Triplefoot  buried  this 
piece  under  the  oak  leaves. 

There  was  one  thing  that  puzzled  me  in 
Triplefoot's  way  of  hunting.  I  could  not 
understand  why  she  did  not  go  after  poultry 
every  day.  East,  west,  north,  and  south,  there 
were  flocks  of  fowls  running  at  large,  and  it 
would  be  a  trifling  exertion  to  snatch  one 
from  the  bushes  at  any  hour  of  the  day. 
Triplefoot  may  have  reasoned  that  a  fowl 
now  and  then  would  not  be  missed,  while  a 
wholesale  slaughter  would  attract  attention, 
and  send  the  farmer  to  hunting  for  the  den. 
301 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

Triplefoot's  cubs  were  killed  that  fall  and 
winter,  and  she  was  left  childless.  Her  mate 
did  not  den  in  this  locality,  and  without 
doubt  was  shot,  for  Triplefoot  did  not  rear 
a  family  the  next  spring.  It  happened  dur- 
ing my  tramps  in  the  woods  that  I  often  met 
Triplefoot.  She  soon  understood  that  I  did 
not  covet  her  glossy  pelt,  and  she  separated 
me  from  mankind  in  general.  I  have  known 
her  to  remain  at  the  den  when  she  knew  I 
was  looking  at  her  through  a  glass.  She 
often  led  the  hounds  through  my  dooryard, 
and,  if  I  was  about,  the  hounds  got  turned 
off  the  trail. 

I  saw  Triplefoot  fool  the  hounds  one  fall. 
I  was  resting  in  the  woods  when  I  heard  the 
hounds  in  Magnolia  Swamp.  I  understood 
what  was  going  on.  Triplefoot  was  trying 
to  throw  them  off,  but  the  dogs  had  a  good 
scent,  and  all  her  efforts  were  useless.  Near 
where  I  was  sitting  there  was  a  pine-tree 
turned  up  by  the  roots.  The  trunk  of  the 
tree  was  about  two  feet  from  the  ground,  near 
the  roots,  but  the  ground  fell  off  rapidly,  so 
302 


'SHE    STOPPED    TO    LOOK    AKOUND 


,    AND    SAW    ME. 


TRIPLEFOOT 


the  top,  with  the  foliage,  was  over  ten  feet 
in  the  air.  While  I  was  listening  to  the 
hounds,  Triplefoot  came  in  sight.  She  passed 
close  to  the  leaning  pine,  and  kept  on  over  the 
hill.  There  was  a  small  pond  in  the  valley, 
below,  and  I  thought  Triplefoot  was  going 
to  the  water  to  throw  off  the  dogs.  But  I 
had  erred.  In  a  few  minutes  she  returned, 
doubling  on  her  trail.  When  she  had  reached 
the  pine,  she  jumped  to  the  tree,  where  it  was 
four  feet  from  the  ground.  She  stopped  to 
look  around,  and  saw  me.  The  wind  was 
against  her,  so  she  had  to  be  guided  by  sight. 
She  seemed  satisfied  that  the  man  was  the 
hermit,  for  she  went  into  the  thick  foliage 
of  the  pine  top  and  awaited  the  hounds.  The 
hounds  passed  by  the  tree  without  stopping, 
but  returned  after  following  the  trail  to  water. 
Both  hounds  passed  by  the  tree,  to  return  in 
a  few  minutes.  One  hound  had  a  suspicion 
that  the  tree  might  harbor  the  fox.  He  put 
his  paws  on  the  tree-trunk,  and  smelt  along 
as  far  as  he  could  reach,  then  gave  it  up. 
Triplefoot  had  been  wise  when  she  jumped 
.303 


A    HERMIT'S    WILD    FRIENDS 

to  the  tree  beyond  the  dog's  reach.  After 
the  hounds  left,  Triplefoot  came  out  of  the 
tree  and  circled  around  me.  She  wanted  to 
make  sure  that  I  was  the  hermit.  I  examined 
the  pine-tree  and  found  the  bark  much 
scratched,  where  Triplefoot  had  jumped  on 
to  it.  The  evidence  showed  that  she  had  fre- 
quently resorted  to  the  trick,  to  throw  off 
the  hounds.  I  wish  I  might  end  the  story 
of  this  little  three-footed  fox  in  some  happy 
way,  but  truth  has  ordered  it  otherwise.  She 
was  shot  when  running  before  the  hounds, 
but  was  not  immediately  killed.  I  found  her 
dead  body  while  skirting  Magnolia  Swamp. 
She  had  crawled  under  a  boulder,  and  had 
slowly  died  from  her  wounds  and  exhaustion. 
I  buried  her,  and  was  glad  that  her  beautiful 
robe  and  her  mutilated  body  would  not  be 
separated  in  death. 


THE  END. 


304 


Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


•> 


919* 


Form  L9-40m-7,'56(C790s4)444 


A  hermit's  wild 
friends 


QL 

791 

W17h 


/Or 


